Sons of Helghan
by Chucklenuts
Summary: Like every other Helghan boy before him, Gorahm Vikar, has devoted his life, strength and soul to the military war machine. What was first clear and righteous, soon becomes muddied and diluted as the line between right and wrong is blurred.
1. Chapter 1

There was only silence within the main hall. It's polished, marble floors, complimented by the ancient relics and statues, did well to extract looks of amazement and quiet whispers within the flock of young, Helghan boys. The main hall was vast, and it's high ceiling looked down upon them all as if they were nothing more than ants, which was not far from the truth in this place. Ten year old Gorahm Vikar, surrounded by boys of similar age, looked around with mute questioning. Less than three hours ago, he had been asleep in his bed, after one of his father's furious beatings, while his mother looked on in helpless resignation. She would sometimes attempt to step in, and sate his rage, which came from the drinks he had _one_ too many of. She often had the scars and bruises to show for it.

It was strange, how one's future could be drastically changed by a simple sheet of paper. His paper had writing on it, claiming that, like many, many other boys, he was being drafted to train and fight in the Helghan Army, like every other Helghan boy before him.

"Draft is effective immediately." Said one faceless soldier, as if he were seizing an asset, rather a young life. The somewhat frightened Gorahm, stood beside his mother at the doorway, clutching the hem of her plain dress, as if he was no older than five. Every heartbeat felt like a straight punch to the back of his head. His mother swallowed hard, her sharp stare eyeing the soldier over. Strapped up in full military gear, with glaring, red goggles, reminded her of the ominous Death, and he was here to claim her only child.

" Yes. Alright..," She said, meaning to sound louder, but her throat had tightened up to the point where speech was raspy and hard. "May I please have a few minutes to speak to my son?"

The soldier stared ahead with the unwavering, masked glare. It was impossible to foretell what he would respond with. A polite nod, or a few gunshots, the possibilities were endless. With some relief settling within the Helghan woman's throat, the soldier nodded curtly, slightly down, then back up. "Fine. Quick." He spoke with his altered voice. He moved a few meters away, and stared at them, as if expecting her to try and sneak her son out the back window. He knew it happened from time to time.

Gorahm's mother took one more sidelong glance at the soldier, then knelt quickly down to her child's eye-level. His small hands perspired within the tight grip of her's. Her familiar lips curved into a loving smile, one that the young Gorahm could not help but return.

"Am I leaving, Mother?" He asked, the fear evident in his red eyes, yet his voice remained level and calm. His mother always believed he was smart, and so very mature for his age.

"Yes," She said, his frightened eyes causing tears to well up behind her's, yet she fought them back fiercely. "You'll be going away for a while. Somewhere with other boys your age, and meals to keep you strong and healthy." She claimed, attempting to make the trip appear appetizing to him.

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The boy cocked his bald head to one side slightly, something he always did when he sensed things were not as they seemed. "... And.. You won't be going with me?" He was almost afraid to ask, since he was certain of what the answer would be.

She shook her head lightly, the tears now fighting ever-harder to break out. "No, Gorahm." She said, her voice cracking slightly. She pulled the frail boy into her tight embrace, and he returned it instantly.

"I need you to be brave," She said, with her face buried into his small shoulder. "Can you do that for your mother, and your people?"

Gorahm nodded slowly, "Yes, Mother," He whispered back, his arms wrapped around his mother's neck. "I can do that..."

Her eyes were shut tight against her son's shoulder, as she could feel him being pulled away. She knew it was the soldier, she knew it without having to look. She felt nothing but helplessness as her only meaning for existence was silently being led towards a large military truck, with a heavy canvas over the back. She knew what was behind it. More boys like him, as frightened and confused as him, all to be assimilated into the Helghan war machine."

In that moment, after the last few boys were placed on the truck, and it's engine growled to life. As it drove off into the distance, and a cold, dusty wind kicked up sand, Gorahm's mother simply knelt there. Helpless, and alone. Within the back of her mind, she heard groans coming from the back room. Her husband would be up soon, and hung over. She knew it would be hours before he even noticed that someone was missing from the house. Someone young, and innocent.

"I love you, Gorahm." She whispered. She didn't know why she said it, as the rising wind covered her words easily. She just wanted to hear it, she wanted someone to know; anyone.

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Gorahm looked around the truck's floor. Both side-benches were packed with others like him, as well as the flatbed, which was where he squished himself into a sitting spot, evoking a chain reaction of annoyed and surprised grunts from the other boys.

"Quiet!" The one soldier on guard snarled, as he sat near the exit, most likely in case any of the boys thought to try and make a clever escape. Not another peep was heard from the young passengers, even as Gorahm finished squeezing himself into a sitting position amongst the others. An open flap on the truck's back allowed the red, afternoon sun to shine through, playing with Gorahm's vision as it went away suddenly, then shot right back in for every building or house they passed.

Un-consciously, his hand raised to his shoulder, and it caressed the worn cloth. It was damp. Gorahm's face remained even, as he knew he would start crying if he even allowed himself to recognize that the dampness was his mother's tears. The boy simply ignored his mind, ignoring the buzzing thoughts it tried to batter into his conscious.

_"I miss my mother."_

_"Will I ever see her again?"_

_"Where are they taking us?"_

Those three thoughts seemed to scratch at his mind the most, but they were only able to scratch and claw, Gorahm would not recognize them. Not now.

_"I love you, mother."_

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And here Gorahm stood. The group he came with was pushed in with several other groups, forming a bald, pint-sized mob within the great Main Hall. Gorahm stood on his toes just to glimpse at the sea of pale orbs that stretched to almost every corner of the first floor level. Surrounding them on every side were Helghan soldiers, keeping the frightened boys in line for whatever mysterious plans they had.

After what seemed like minutes, a single light turned on with a loud clang. The gaping polished hall did well to echo the sharp sound, and once again, every child knew to shut their mouths.

Beneath the light's gaze, one man stood, high up on the second floor, overlooking the small faces that gazed back, wide-eyed. The man gleamed beneath the light. His long, leather overcoat, the collection of medals and badges, even his bald head, slightly spotted with sweat, reflected the light in a bright sheen. He spoke, and his words hit them in tidal waves.

"...Sons _of Helghan...The strength in my hand, and the pride in my heart," _His powerful voice echoed across the hall, so each could hear his impassioned words. _"You represent many things to our great nation. Our safety, our wisdom, and most importantly, our future, rest in your hands! When your forefathers made the great Exodus here, it was with that hope that they could raise strong, exemplary children, like yourselves; ones that burned with the fiery spirit of the Helghast; ones that would give their total love and conviction in defense of their families, their government, and their very way of life!"_

Every child looked wide-eyed, at the fierce, powerful man, his every furious motion, his furrowed, intense gaze, his voice that elevated each of them to a status they had never thought existed for them. They had heard this powerful orator many times before over the radio, and his name was spoken almost constantly amongst adults and older children. It was their Emperor. Scolar Visari.

_"In these dark times, of foreign oppression, and manipulation. Under the chains that bind our people, it is you that has the power to free us! It is YOU that will have the strength and the loyalty to lead our people to freedom!"_

By now, more than a few children were crying out in joy to the man on the stage, their cheers and yells were coated over by Visari's words, ones that boomed about the main hall, and entered your mind as well as your soul. Their leader, this prophet, called to them, and more and more boys were answering.

His broad gaze swept across the Helghan youth, in an almost challenging way. _"Your caring nation can give you the training.. It can give you the tools.. It can give you the chance to strike at the hearts of those who would see us dead, and dying, with no hope of salvation!"_ A black, leather finger pointed out to the crowd of cheering boys. _"Will YOU be our salvation?!"_

In that moment, the boys were roaring with fierce approval to the Emperor, who's pallid lips stretched into a benevolent smile. They were angry, they were loyal, they wanted to tear this unknown enemy limb from limb, like savage beasts. Scolar Visari, opened his arms beneath the light, as if to embrace each one of the children into his love and care. "Welcome to Radec Academy!"

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Down a darkly-lit hallway, Gorahm, and three other boys followed a woman in a form-fitting Helghan dress-suit, as well as a standard issue mask, and air supply. Gorahm missed his mother very much, and wanted to hug the woman tightly. But she, was not his mother in any way. Her movements were sharp, stiff, and obedient. There was only coldness from her, and it seemed more like she would sooner hit them, than smile in welcome. She held a small device in her hand, and worked on it diligently.

"Keep up." She commanded, and the one or two boys in the back scooted up closer, to avoid her possible wrath. She suddenly came to a stop at the collection of doors, Gorahm nearly running into her leg, and relieved that he didn't. The door was a gray metal, spotted with a few very minor dents. In chipped, red paint the door was titled "93" in the Helghan language. Her pale, spindly fingers danced across her small pad. "This is your sleeping quarters. Any equipment you will need will be given when ready. Your names are listed on your bunks. Go."

Each of the four boys moved quickly into the room, and Gorahm just barely avoided getting caught in the heavy door as she slammed it shut. A familiar metal grating sound was heard, as it was obvious the door was being locked. The room was a drab concrete, complimented by four beds, with thick chains on the far corners connecting to the wall, holding the beds even. Two over two was the placement. Used, stained mattresses were laid roughly on top, with neither a blanket nor pillow in sight. On the far corner was a rusty squat toilet with several old newspapers and a waste bin next to it.

Each of the boys slowly looked around the room, still very much fearful, even disbelieving that this was happening to them. They wanted their old beds, and a toilet they did not have to share with complete strangers. They wanted many things, but there was a mutual, sinking feeling that they would have to get -very- used to these accommodations.

Each shuffled to his respective bed, their last name and first initial written on tape, and adhered to the adjacent wall.

"Mardel, W.", "Treiak, L.", "Vikar, G.", "Yoban, M."

Each boy made his way into their bed, and simply lied on it, no words, or sounds passing between them. Only the light buzzing of the single light could be heard, and it made Gorahm dizzy, the more it droned on. After what seemed like an hour of horrible silence, the light turned off, ushering in a blinding dark. Only a tiny sliver beneath the door allowed a thin sheet of artificial light to spill in.

"I want to go home." One boy whispered into the dark silence. The words mirrored exactly what Gorahm was thinking, but he kept his mouth shut, knowing it would not change his feeling of emptiness to tell the others.

"Shut up," Another boy whispered back, in the frustrated, and short-tempered way some do. "Stop being a little cry-baby. You're mom and dad don't want you anymore, so they sent you here."

"Yes they do." He replied, the tears obvious in his voice. "They wouldn't leave me here. They're gonna come and get me, you'll see."

The aggressive boy's voice now took on that sadistic edge, the kind that haunted you when you were all alone. It was the voice that couldn't be negotiated with, and it's only purpose was to enjoy your pain. "They're never coming for you. Babies like you don't belong in the Helghast, and you're gonna be dead meat real soon."

Gorahm didn't say a word, his eyes closed as he tried to block out the other boys words. They were maddening in their supposed logic.

"Stop it.. Please," The boy's pain-stricken voice squeaked out. "I hate it here.. I wanna go home. I wanna go home.," He repeated the same few phrases over and over, slowly letting them drown down to mutterings as sleep began to take him.

Gorahm felt salty tears course down his face to pool on his mattress. He refused to make a sound, lest he be the sadistic voice's next victim. He simply let his tears out slowly, and tried to ignore the inevitable thoughts in his mind. That he would never see home again. He never got to tell his mother he loved her, but he hoped she knew he did. As the wet streaks down his face finally began to dry, and he felt the numbing sleep creep over him, he heard the powerful words in his head once more, the words that sealed his fate to glory, and duty. The ones that made him feel unstoppable, and impenetrable. Those words would be in his dreams tonight.

_"Welcome to Radec Academy!"_

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So, that's the first chapter, and I've written most of the second. My continued effort simply depends on how much feedback I get. xD Positive or negative criticism, if reviews come in, I'll do my best to keep posting!


	2. Chapter 2

Gorahm's dreams had been listless and gray, evaporating from his conscious the moment he was brought from his sleep by the distinct noise of metal on metal. The door unlocked with an equally grating sound, and it whined as it swung open. Another masked soldier strode in, aggressively. Gorahm looked around, blinking. The bed across from his was empty. The piece of tape that had previously said "Yoban, M", had been hastily torn off. He had no time to wonder where his bunkmate had gone to.

"Get up! Move! Now!" The soldier howled, at the boys who were still somewhat unbelieving that this was happening. They slid with a fearful sluggishness from their beds and stood, quietly. He seemed almost insulted that they even fell asleep in their assigned beds. "What the fuck are you all staring at?!" He roared through his mask. "From now on, if I see any of you move so slow again, I'll drag your lazy ass out back and put a fuckin' bullet in your head! Understood?" If it weren't for the mask, Gorahm suspected he would have been ejecting saliva with his furious words. "Am I fucking understood?!"

The boys' nods turned to a series of frightened 'Yes, sir's. He growled at them, the fingers on his right hand, flexing. "Get outside, and follow the rest of the pups!" He barked, which they obeyed, attempting to keep as much distance from the unmoving soldier. Gorahm slid out the door, and was swept up in the current of the other boys as they were led down the halls. The white noise of murmurs entered Gorahm's ears, as they walked. His heart was beating fast, and his breathing shallow. He had seen his father work in the slaughterhouse a few times, and he felt like one of the farm animals. Frightened, confused, following the path in front of him, and uncertain of what was to come.

After several turns down the hall, they were forced into another dimly lit room, it became somewhat cramped, as they were all packed inside, but moving around was still possible.

"Clothes off!" A voice suddenly rung out over an old loudspeaker. "Leave them at your feet, you have one minute."

Gorahm and the others did as they were told, almost automatically. They were adults. Him and the others surrounding him were children. That's simply how things worked. After Gorahm stripped his last piece of clothing off, he suddenly felt the damp cold of the room, it's icy concrete, and rusty metal fixtures, dripping from the old plumbing. Without warning the several rusty heads fired an ice cold barrage of water down upon them, followed by cries of surprise. One boy who was attempting to fish a remaining sock from his foot, was knocked over by another frightened boy, and soon, it was chaos, as the combined darkness, and exploded with the frigidly cold water acting as the guilty match.

Gorahm could feel others stepping on his bare feet with theirs. Their bony shoulders shoving him around in panic. All he could think was to keep calm. "Brave." The word in his mother's voice entered his mind. It comforted him, despite knowing it was not really her. He breathed slowly, not allowing his fear to take hold in the midst of the panic. He kept his balance, stepping over the soaked garments and shoes that covered the floor.

It -was- like a slaughterhouse. The fear, the panic. Strange, how similar we were to animals, how easily we could assume the role of pigs and cattle.

These thoughts were interrupted as the water slowly ceased to mere droplets cascading from the bottom of the shower head. The cries of panic dropped to many heavy breathes with a few dry sobs sprinkled in. Another door opened, blinding them as the natural light flooded in to the naked, shivering boys.

"Out! Shower's over!" A soldier barked shrewdly.

Gorahm could feel relief in his chest. He slowly began to feel the toes on his left foot regain some feeling of warmth. Why that foot? He looked down and realized that the foot was planted in a glossy, yellow puddle of his own urine.

He soon felt pressure on his back, and walked forward raggedly, his entire body freezing and numb. No one even thought to pick up their old clothes. Do as you're told, was all they could think about at this point.

The flock of shivering boys entered into a long room, this one was bright with the natural light that flooded in through the many windows. Rows of operating tables and beds lined the long walls. Between each bed and table stood a woman in a dark-gray medical outfits, with medic armbands on each left arm. They were silent, with eyes ahead, and hands respectfully folded behind their backs.

The soldier who had ordered them out, stood in front of them now. "You will be assigned to a table and wait for a check-up to determine your health. After, you will be taken out to play." He informed the children.

Gorahm almost felt like smiling. It just seemed too ludicrous to hear words like 'play' from a fully-suited Helghast soldier. More soldiers moved forward, grasping children by the arm and leading them over to a table to wait. It was only a matter of time before one of the soldiers reached Gorahm, and him and another boy we led roughly to one of the medical staffers.

The boy he was taken there with was first to be diagnosed, and placed upon a table that was covered with a thin sheet of paper. His eyes were wide with distrust as the woman began probing and diagnosing. She had no goggles, but wore a mask, which hugged itself to her bald head.

Gorahm was hypnotized by her, and before he knew it, she picked the boy up off the table and placed him down at her side. With smooth, quick hands, she retrieved a clear, plastic wrapped suit and handed it to him.

"I want you to put this on," She placed it gently in his pale hands, and then motioned to the door on the far end of the room. "And then go out that door, okay?"

Of course the boy nodded obediently, it was the easiest, and seemingly least hazardous thing they'd done all day.

She then turned to Gorahm, who's breathing was normal, and he couldn't help but lock eyes with the nurse's un-goggled ones. Ever since he'd set foot inside this place he believed there was nothing human beneath the Helghast masks, and it did well to confuse him to see a pair of red, tired eyes staring back at his.

She reached down and picked him up, placing him on the table lightly. He made no movement to resist her touch, there was still fear in his heart.

"Open your mouth."

He opened his mouth, which she examined briefly.

"Okay. Lift your arms, and breathe normally."

He did as he was told, and felt warm fingers probe along his pale, numb skin.

The routine of him doing as she told continued. She pricked his finger, and drew blood, then let him off of the table, having the same packaged suit ready.

"Did you hear what I told the boy before you?"

He nodded silently.

"Good boy. Now hurry up." She said, although her tone was distinctly more nurturing.

"Maybe it's because she's a nurse," He thought to himself, as he tore the plastic, and began putting the uniform on. It was a dark-gray drab undershirt, with a lighter colored overcoat. There were buttoned shoulder straps, and a straight collar that lined around the back of his neck. The sleeves, hem, and front were lined thinly with red, and over his heart was the Helghast symbol. Three separate points shooting out, that start from the center. Each point representing an integral part of life for the Helghast.

_Duty, Obedience, Loyalty._

Every Helghan boy and girl knew their meanings.

Gorahm finished fiddling with the short overcoat's buttons, and slid the dark, cement colored shorts on, tucking his undershirt inside it roughly.

The socks? He guessed it. Dark-gray. He sat down on his butt and began to slide them on smoothly. Murmured voices were heard over his shoulder, and he glanced back to see a nurse and soldier speaking in hushed tones. He watched from the corner of his eye, at the naked boy still sitting on the table. His breathing appeared labored, and his already sickly, pale complexion, appeared worse than normal with shrugged shoulders, a weak frame, and thin limbs.

Gorahm had pulled his socks on, and now worked on strapping up the black boots, yet he could not tear his gaze away from the sickly boy. Why was he not handed his uniform? Is something wrong?

The Helghan soldier nodded curtly to the nurse, who obediently began perusing her pockets, finally producing a small, capped syringe. The boy watched her with a tired fear. He knew the others hadn't received a shot. They were all dressed and outside. He was frightened, but his body was sick, and simply the heightened fear was enough to drain his energy.

The boy only watched in apprehension as the nurse brought the needle closer to his arm. Closer, until-

"Hey!" The soldier shouted at Gorahm, who had just finished strapping his boots, but had been fully observing the scene before him. "What the fuck are you still doing here?! Get outside, now!"

Gorahm looked around frantically, as he stood up and rushed to the exit. He didn't realize he was the only one left, besides the boy still on the table. As the light pattering of his feet brought him closer to the door, he glanced over his shoulder.

The sickly boy was staring at him, even as the needle was slid into his skinny arm, and the clear fluid coursed through his veins and began shutting down his vital organs, he stared blankly at the last boy who would be going outside that day.

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The red sky looked fierce, as it always did. Gorahm breathed a quiet sigh of relief. His knees were shaking, but he didn't notice.

He could see the sky, but that was all he could recognize. The rest was closed off behind a tall, encircling, concrete wall. It looked to be at least twenty feet, and the top was lined with curling razor-wire. Impossible for him to climb, he knew. He wasn't sure why escape was his first thought, but he didn't dwell upon it.

A rough hand grabbed his shoulder, and shoved him forward. He nearly fell on his face, if his feet hadn't caught him at the last moment. He spun around to see another masked soldier gazing down at him.

"Out for a fucking stroll?" The artificial voice ground out. There was no discernable difference between the soldiers, even in the voice, since they all seemed comfortable with profanity every three words. "Go join the other pups, and stay there. You hear me?" He pointed ahead, to the far end of the field sharply, and Gorahm ran off without another word. He didn't feel like running, but also suspected he'd receive worse if he appeared sluggish or lazy. Maybe like that other boy, back inside. Why did he have to stay?

As he approached the other 'pups', who were all seated on the ground in a sort of downtrodden silence, he was met with a collection of looks. Some casual, others defensive, and some with wide-eyed fear, like he was another soldier, ready to issue out new orders for some other frightful task. Gorahm felt slightly embarrassed, and plopped down on the ground a few feet from the rest. He wanted to ask if they were supposed to be doing something, but he didn't. He almost welcomed the peace. Almost. Peace meant he'd have time to consider what was happening, and what was to come.

His heart still ached. He missed his mother, and didn't like the idea of her being alone with his abusive father. Not at all. He couldn't quite remember a time when his father wasn't a violent drunk. Probably when he was much younger. Probably.

One boy glanced up, and what he saw frightened him enough to make him cry out in apprehension. It was a low cry, but enough for those next to him to hear, and they followed his worried gaze. Soon, every boy's eyes were glued to the man walking down the field in their direction. He looked small from where he was, but he was certainly moving with purpose.. Right at them. Soon enough, Gorahm caught on to the surrounding apprehension that felt almost palpable, and he too caught sight of the approaching figure. Every part of his legs felt weak, and he didn't want to rise, but fear was a great motivator, apparently, and he pulled himself up to stand.

As the man approached, his appearance became more distinct. He was of normal, Helghan build, and his steps moved without fear. He and the pups both knew who was to be frightened of whom. As he finally came within speaking distance of the children, he stopped, and eyed them from behind his mask. He wore the combat leggings and boots, but had nothing on his chest despite a white sleeveless T-shirt, and tags, which clinked together faintly. Under one rough, pale arm, he held an old box, and placed it at his feet, almost as if inviting the boys to come see what 'Santa Helghast' had brought for them. Not one moved a muscle.

"Well, well..," He said in rapid succession, eyeing over the flock of stock-still boys. "You are my recruits, eh?" His voice was grizzled and worn, yet confident and smooth. Those factors seemed obvious, despite the voice-altering mask. "Do any of you boys know why you're here?"

Gorahm knew, and he was sure others did too, but his mouth wouldn't work, as did none of the others. The old Helghan laughed in a mixture of good-nature, and mockery. "No one knows, huh?"

It seemed like ages of humiliating silence in the Helghan's presence, and more frightening as Gorahm thought he may lose his temper with the silent group. He merely nodded and sighed, rolling one shoulder.

"As our prestigious leader, Emperor Visari, stated, you boys are to be trained as warriors, and to fight honorably for Helghan freedom," He announced, but continued his next sentence almost immediately. "But do not have any illusions, boys. Your hands will not be held, and you won't be tucked in to sleep. This is a military academy, and every facet of its existence revolves around, -what-?" He expected an answer this time, and Gorahm could feel his hand rise up, along with a few other brave boys. The Helghan motioned at Gorahm, mostly because he happened to be standing seperate from the flock.

The other boys' eyes shot to Gorahm, almost causing him to stutter out his answer. "War.. Uh, sir."

"Correct! What's your name, boy?"

"Gorahm Vikar, sir."

"Wrong. You have no name. None of you frightened little vermin do. Nothing is given to you in the Helghast. You want -that- name, boy? You'll have to show me you've earned it," He announced casually. "As this little no-name said before. We are an academy of war, and only the dedicated, brave, and obedient will survive. The Helghan Army has no place for the weak."

His foot nudged the box.

"Each of you take one. They'll be required to wear during training, classes, and anytime outside. Any other time is optional."

Gorahm and the other boys approached, curious, little hands reaching into the old box. They were rebreather masks.

Ever since the first colony took to Helghan, it's highly toxic and hazardous atmosphere made life almost unsustainable. Due to this, anyone who was exposed to it, needed to wear a rebreather mask, to increase their chances of living longer than 40. As later generations emerged, their lungs were more resistant to the air, but masks were still mandatory. It was not recommended breathing in the Helghan air for too long. When Scolar Visari rose to power, the mask evolved into a symbol of his people, and everyone, from rich to poor wore one.

Gorahm pulled his own mask from the box and stared at it. It wasn't fancy by any means, but it was newer than the one he had at home. It had no tubes, connecting to a tank. It was merely two small tank of compressed air attached to either side. The goggles stared back at him. They were also tinted red, but nothing like the ones the soldiers wore, which illuminated with an un-natural, red light. It almost felt like he was holding a dead soldier's head in his hands, it's vibrant eyes dead and light-less. He played with the straps for a moment and slid the mask snug upon his head. He always felt detached from the world when wearing the rebreathers, as if observing it behind a looking-glass, or from some omnipotent craft that no one could peer into.

The old Helghan man growled at the boys and called for their attention, which was given with haste. "Alright! There will be know training on your first day, but tommorow, we will begin learning conduct and the basics to becoming a true Helghan soldier. You will now go to your history class. Remember, that mask you wear is your new identity. Lose it, and I'll personally kill you. Dismissed."

Gorahm was unsure if the man had been joking or not about the consequences of losing your mask. He hadn't encountered a sense of humor at this place yet, so assumed it was best to not play with fire.

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The flock of boys followed closely behind their guide. Another soldier of the innumerable amounts that roved and patrolled the halls. Gorahm couldn't shake the 'slaughterhouse' feeling of the dimly lit halls and doors of the Academy. The place seemed to cry out with silent echoes of past horrors, creeping in and out of the sharply lined shadows.

It was the knowing.. Or perhaps, the un-knowing that frightened him most.

The soldier on point leading the pint-sized flock led them through a door-less corridor into another extravagant, marbled room. Gorahm and the others stood at the top of a great auditorium, its steep slant downward was laid out with seats and connecting desks for each row.

"Go to the bottom, and take your seats." He said, knowing he wouldn't need to repeat himself. The boys had done well to know their place in the Academy Hierarchy, and moved with obedient purpose.

The general mob of boys piled into the first two rows, pushing, sliding and muttering, until they were finally settled in their seats silently, with Gorahm finding himself in the first row, third from the left.

It seemed to amaze each of the boys, of the classroom's exquisite size and grandeur. The same beautiful, polished marble, with hanging, crimson banners, and two thundering pillars that flanked either side of the auditorium. Gorahm had not expected this. So far, he'd been taken from what felt like a dilapidated bunker to an extravagant mansion, and then back again. His young, frightened mind could barely keep up. He did not know what to expect next.

Breaking the silence, a door at the bottom swung open with a whining squeal that permeated the air for a moment. In stepped a woman- or better yet, the husk of a woman, who'd appeared to have withered up long ago. A rebreather hugged her face, almost as much as the black, leather dress-suit clung to her bony figure. She didn't appear frail or old, simply thin and lanky, which certainly showed in the smooth, venomous way she glided to her desk. Her heeled boots, which matched the color of her dress made no sound on the crisp, marble floor. Gorahm had only heard stories of banshees from his neighborhood friends, and his mother had informed him of their non-existence. She probably had never seen this woman up close.

"I am your history teacher, I would give my name, but it would not matter as you will refer to me as Ma'am," She said, her tone monotonous and mechanically precise. "You will speak only when spoken to, and if I happen to find one of you slouching, or dozing, there will be immediate consequences... Shall we begin?"

The auditorium's lights slowly weakened to nothing, as a screen was projected onto the smooth, marble wall at the front of the classroom. Gorahm blinked from behind his mask. He couldn't remember when he'd last eaten, and his hunger pains had grown more painful and noticeable as his day progressed. He stared blankly at the screen, but all his mind could materialize was a hot meal.

"A good national appreciation starts with an understanding of its history. And we will start at the beginning," She announced. As if on cue the hazy mess of streaks and spots gave way to an old video, of an unfamiliar ship, roaring out of the atmosphere. "This is the beginning. Our beginning. Rising aggression due to starvation of all of Earth's natural resources, caused the first expedition to space. This journey across the stars was funded by several wealthy corporations, one of these being Helghan Corporation..."

It was mystifying to Gorahm, that the more she spoke, the more he could feel his mind wander. He squelched a yawn that climbed out of his throat, and could feel the energy being sapped from his body. He was interested in the history lesson, but the mixture of the serpentine woman's bland voice, his food-deprived stomach, and simply the frightening events that happened earlier today were weighing down on him, pushing himself further and further into his tired subconscious. He wanted to rest his eyes, and take a short nap. Nothing unreasonable. Her back was turned to the old screen. Gorahm was sure she wouldn't notice one, little student resting his head.

It was wishful thinking, for as soon as he let his head sink into his arms on the panel, a sharp voice called out. "Am I boring you, child?"

Gorahm felt a jolt, and shot up back up to sit straight. It wasn't hard to imagine that beneath his mask, his pale cheeks were red in embarrassment.

"Oh, um.. No, Ma'am," He said evenly, although there was an obvious boyish tension in his voice. "I was just-"

"-About to step up in front of the class," She interrupted him, her sharp, icy tone shattering his smaller, wavering one. "Now."

Gorahm almost felt a sharp rebuttal of his own come out, but he bit his tongue. He slipped out of his seat with a grimace, and began the long walk to the front of the class. Each step was followed by snicker or chuckle from one of the other boys. As far as they were concerned, this class just got a whole lot more interesting.

The glazed lenses of her rebreather mask focused on the small boy standing in front of her. She stared at him expectantly, as her spindly fingers now gripped a thin, metallic antennae-like object . Gorahm could already guess what that was for.

"Turn around, and pull your trousers down, child," She commanded, each word tinged with venom at any form of incompetence in her classroom. The young Helghan did as he was told, his face remained even. He imagined it would not be as bad as when he got on his father's bad side after returning home from another intoxicated evening.

He did not watch, but merely stared ahead as she coiled the antennae back then let loose with a powerful, whistling strike to his buttocks. The swing was punctuated by a sharp crack, which made some of the boys recoil, and whisper amongst themselves.

Gorahm's eyes screwed shut as the horrible stinging pain shot through his bare skin and nearly made him jump. Before he could even take a strangled breath another harsh crack was plastered onto his rear, right over where the previous one was, causing him to grit his teeth. He hated this very much... But he refused to show his pain. He was a Helghast, and he would not show weakness.

Once more, the cold woman swung it at his buttocks, and left three swollen lines marked along both cheeks. Gorahm didn't move, but his legs were now shaking involuntarily again. He had lost most of the feeling from his waist, and down.

"Pull your pants up child, and take your seat. Let that be a lesson to you. All of you."

Gorahm dejectedly pulled his drawers up, exhaling shakily as he slid it over his bright red rear. He felt even worse than before, and walked, humiliated, back to his seat, with his dead lenses staring at his feet.

As the young Helghast walked past his teacher, in an impatient moment of sadistic power, she struck him un-expectantly on his bare thigh, attempting to further ridicule the boy, and drive home the point that she was in control.

Gorahm felt the painful sting like never before, and snarled in pain, his muscles tightening defensively. He'd had it, and couldn't hold in his words any longer. He spun around and stared daggers at the woman through his rebreather.

"You fucking bitch!" He cried out, before he even thought about what he was saying. With those three words, the air was sucked out of the auditorium, and all eyes were glued on the cursing boy. The situation had become much more serious than a simple punishment. He knew there was nothing smart about barking back at authority, but he couldn't resist. He hated thinking that this weak buzzard could push him around.

His teacher, now clenching the antennae in an even whiter knuckled grip, looked at him with pure death. She skipped her fork-tongued words, and raised her hand to now blatantly whip this rebellious boy into submission, for all to see.

Gorahm stood, frozen. He had already extended far beyond his normal disrespect for elders, and now couldn't moves an inch as she prepared to bring the whistling antennae down at him.

"Stop!" A loud, commanding voice called out. If it were not for its toned and mature authority, she may have ignored it, but she hesitated, and let her hand fall to her side with flustered annoyance. There, walking calmly down the steps was a Helghan soldier, but it was quickly discerned he was much more than that. He moved with conviction, as the pulsing red orbs in his mask demanded obedience. He wore a leather officer's jacket adorned with several alien medals that none of the boys could understand past that they were shiny. His army fatigue leggings, and combat boots resonated loudly, even as he stepped gracefully down the steps. In the stead of a helmet was an officer's hat, which was perched atop his bald head.

"Now, Miss Hedlan, what seems to be the problem?...," He accosted her in a friendly, casual manner.

She motioned at Gorahm, who was now staring up at the tall officer who'd intervened. "Simply keeping order within the classroom. This was has quite a pestilent, little mouth on him." She seemed to be pleading her case, as if looking for permission from the mysterious warrior to resume her public punishment.

"Ah, I understand, now," He murmured, the way his voice flowed, even with the voice altering rebreather seemed to hint that he was smiling. "But beat a dog too hard, and he's likely to turn on you, Miss Hedlan."

"Of course, Major, I was merely sho-." Her voice was momentarily drown out by a two loud, rapid tones over the loudspeaker. It seemed to puzzle the boys at first, before the Major waved them off.

"Class is over, boys. You can leave through that door, to the mess hall." He pointed to the door on his right, and the boys moved quickly, chattering to each other about what had just transpired.

Gorahm slowly began to follow after them, but was unsurprised to feel a heavy hand on his shoulder. "You and I should have a talk, boy," He looked back to Miss Hedlan. "I'll take care of him, Ma'am. See to it that he doesn't disrespect your authority again."

Miss Hedlan hesitated a moment, almost as if to object, but she nodded in defeat. "As you wish, Major."

"Good."

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Gorahm was walking silently beside the unknown Major, careful not to make eye contact, and keeping to himself. The large Helghast walked calmly for a moment, telling Gorahm that they would be taking a different route to the mess hall, so they could have a little chat.

"Gorahm Vikar's your name, right?" The Major probed calmly, his holstered sidearm jostling lightly with each step.

"Yes... But, they say I don't have a name until I've earned it, Sir." He said, afraid to correct the older man.

The Major chuckled. "Right, right. They did the same thing to me, when I joined the army... Now.. I witnessed your little fiasco with Miss Hedlan. Care to explain yourself?"

"I was tired, and hungry... And I missed my mother. When she hit me that last time.. I just got so mad, I didn't really even know those words were coming out."

A pause, followed by another light chuckle from the Major, as the two strode together through the halls.

"Want to hear a secret?" He asked mildly.

Gorahm nodded his head slowly. "Okay."

The Major leaned closer as if to whisper, and his artificial voice fizzled out, "Miss Hedlan was my history teacher, and she spanked my ass on the first day of class too. Stung, didn't it?"

"Yeah, but I didn't want her to think it hurt me."

"Now you're becoming a Helghast, Gorahm. Feel no fear, and show no weakness." He murmured, quoting one of the many plaques he'd seen on the wall when entering the Academy.

The Major finally stopped, with Gorahm in tow. He walked up to one of the doors, and held it open for the boy.

"Eat up, Gorahm... And a little trick to learn is, save some of your meal for tomorrow, so you aren't falling asleep."

The young Helghast nodded, his rebreather holding to his face easily. As Gorahm entered the noisy mess hall, and the Major closed the door after him, he let out a sigh, the muffled silence of the dimly lit hall now settling in around him.

The Major saw much of himself in the boy, and it filled him with a pride he'd long forgotten.

"There's hope for my young nephew yet..," He thought to himself, walking back down the hall. Even as his rigid shadow melted into the hallway's welcoming darkness, the sharp echo of his steps rippled in every direction.

--------------------x

Okay, second chapter done, and with twice as many words! The next one will most likely be shorter, but that all depends on the feedback I get.


	3. Chapter 3

The dark hallways hollow echoes soon melted away to the banter and bustling of the mess hall. This room seemed to be a mixture of the academy's nice marble halls, and cold, rundown underbelly, with a significant lean towards the latter. The once-clean floors were scuffed from the countless steps that walked to and from this place, and the white humming lights that hung from the tall ceiling shined an un-natural light upon all who dined beneath its glare. Gorahm couldn't help but smirk resignedly beneath his mask. The un-natural was a Helghast's natural habitat.

Gorahm moved silently to the slowly shortening line on the far end of the auditorium. He hated being out of place, and his place was not in the open, but within the rank and file of the other 'pups'.

He took his place at the line, giving himself a few feet's distance from the boy in front of him. Gorahm stared vacantly at the dirty floor.

"How many boys; from soldiers to generals, took in this sight?" A voice chimed into his head listlessly. He assumed the friendly Major must have, but he couldn't be certain. He liked the older Helghan, as much as two complete strangers could.

"Hey. Hey, you." A pre-adolescent voice was heard.

Gorahm's head slowly rose. He partly wished that nobody would speak to him. He was done with being noticed for the day, especially after the incident with his lovely serpentine teacher. His red glazed goggles peered at the boy ahead of him, and theone ahead him in turn. They were both staring directly back with their own lidless, goggled eyes. There were no faces that could be seen, and for a moment Gorahm believed this would lead to another confrontation.

He licked his lips and spoke beneath his mask with a dry throat, "Uh, me?" He peered behind him. No one else in line. They must be talking to him.

"Were you the kid that called the teacher a bitch?" The closer one inquired quickly, with the further boy staring along.

"Uh.. Yeah, that was me.."

"Heh.. That was cool," He commented.

"Especially when she beat your ass." The second boy added finally, with a tinge of light-natured mocking.

Gorahm felt his pale cheeks redden with embarrassment, the pain from her lashings now a dull soreness, "Hehe... That psycho sure can hit hard.."

He felt relief as both boys chuckled back.

"I'm Ledkir." The first boy announced.

"I'm Grenik." The second followed suite, taking a few paces back as the line finally began to pick up.

"Uh.. Gorahm. I'm Gorahm," He spoke, trying to sound friendly.

Ledkir scratched his neck absently. "Hey, is your last name Vikar? One of the bunks in my room said 'Vikar G'. Is that you?"

Gorahm nodded. "Yeah!" He seemed slightly embarrassed now, now attempting to place Ledkir's last name. "Treek?"

Ledkir shook his head with a laugh, "Treiak, not Treek." He corrected him.

"I like Treek better, actually." Grenik joked wryly, evoking a smack from Ledkir to his shoulder. "Hey! It's a good thing! Treiak sounds like that thing in- Oh! My turn. Finally!"

Gorahm laughed at the two, as Grenik scooted up to the masked Helghast woman behind the metal counter. She mechanically slid out a tray which Gorahm couldn't see.

"Find me when you get your food!" He said, and walked off. Apparently he was as hungry as Gorahm was.

Ledkir accepted his meal soundlessly and stepped aside, waiting for Gorahm, who mimicked his actions. The tray was covered in several things he didn't have enough time to inspect before Ledkir spoke.

"You can some sit with us, if you want."

"Sure." Gorahm said with enthusiasm. He had been paranoid that maybe no one would eat with him when he had entered the mess hall.

Within moments, the two boys found Grenik alone at one end of a table. Ledkir sat next to him, and Gorahm took the seat across from them. Grenik's mask was in his lap, as he had wasted no time in digging in to his meal.

There were few discernable differences in appearance among the Helghast. They were all bald, with large, ruddy rings around their eyes, and deathly pale skin. To anyone else, they seemed to look the same.

Grenik had a rounded facial structure, with a cleft chin and wide, button nose. He seemed to have a perpetual smirk tugging at the corner of his thin lips, reflecting his apparent wit.

Ledkir pulled his mask off, blinking his eyes a few times as the red lenses no longer shielded his eyes from the glaring light. His face seemed to be comprised of angles and lines, with his straight jaw line, and thin, pointed nose. Feint lines were creased from both sides of his nose down to each corner of his mouth. A light spattering of freckles dotted over the bridge of his nose.

Gorahm slid his mask off and shook his head lightly at the humming light that chocked his vision for a moment. He peered down at his meal with apprehension, and noticed Ledkir doing the same.

"What is this?" Gorahm asked, not so much out of aversion, but to simply hear that someone knew what food this was, or if it was food at all.

Grenik looked up, and spoke through a mouthful, "The chunky, brown stuff is soup, I think.. At least it tastes like some kind've soup I had once... Those stick-things are a bread. They go good with the soup," He swallowed and inhaled deeply. "And that little carton has juice in it."

Gorahm immediately opened the carton and helped himself to a swig of the juice to help his dry throat. His face contorted in surprise at the liquids sour bite.

"Careful, it's a little sour." He said, laughing as he scooped another spoonful of soup into his mouth. As karma would have it, he inhaled some of the broth and began choking and coughing lightly. His eyes became watery as he gulped down the remainder of his juice.

"You should learn which pipe is for food and which one is for breathing," Ledkir murmured with a content, little smile.

Gorahm couldn't help but dig into his food, with less zeal than Grenik, but enough to show that he was hungry. He had four of the long, rigid crackers on his tray, and munched two down as he slurped his soup, chunks and all. It all tasted rather bland, but he really wasn't surprised. He took the two remaining crackers from his tray, and placed them in his pocket, taking the Major's wise advice. He wasn't particularly full, but he had something in his belly, and that would be enough for now. He suddenly paused, and looked to Ledkir.

"Hey, Ledkir..."

"What?"

"That crying boy. Yoban M. I think he disappeared last night.. His bunk was empty when we got up."

"Yeah.. I remember that too... Wanted to go home."

Gorahm felt a strange feeling in his stomach. He knew why he was feeling it, but his mind simply wouldn't let him dwell too hard on something so frighteningly eerie. 'Yoban M.' cried for his parents, and the next day he was gone. "...Do.. Do you think he went home then?"

"I don't know.. I mean, maybe," Ledkir said, with a similar feeling of not to think too hard on such things, yet his tone seemed to deceive an ominous feeling for the worst.

The three boys were suddenly at a loss for words, none of them wishing to pursue the topic further, which Grenik was the first to dispel.

"So, Gor. Where're you from?" He prodded loudly.

"Gorahm couldn't hide a slight embarrasment with his mask this time. "I don't know the exact name, really... I lived on the edge of the city, near a slaugh-" His words were drowned out by another monotonous tone. They all seemed confused, before each slowly realized it was the end of their lunch.

The far doors swung open, and two soldiers stepped through. "Leave your trash!" an artificial voice commanded, "Follow us in an orderly fashion, and no talking!"

Gorahm sighed silently, finishing the sour juice grimly. When would this day end?

----------------------------------------------------------

The group followed the soldier, who paced loudly down the web-work of hallways. Gorahm walked closely with Ledkir and Grenik, his mask now snuggly fitted back onto his face, and his red goggles peering at the drab, dark hallways, dimly lit every few yards. Gorahm had long given up at figuring out how to navigate this place, and his mind simply told him to follow. One day he'd have this maze of corridors memorized. It just wouldn't be today, or for quite a while.

As they had done before, the Helghast soldier held the door open to them, and they all filed in silently, keeping their lifeless eyes ahead to what was to come. As the last boy stepped through, the metal door clanged shut. The room appeared to be small, with a single, hanging light bulb providing only enough light to reveal a circle painted onto the concrete floor. It was menacing to Gorahm. Cold, claustrophobic apprehension worked its way through his body, making his pale, hairless skin ripple with goose bumps.

The dim bulb soon hummed as it's light began to flood the room, and melt away the darkness, revealing a large figure standing across from the group of boys, who hadn't even taken a step since the door shut.

The light slowly worked its way up the mysterious figures body. Military boots, with one hanging limply over the other. Dark military slacks, and fatigues. A white, sleeveless t-shirt, with pale, scarred arms crossed over a broad chest. Tags hung around the faceless man's neck, which reflected dully against the increasing light.

At first Gorahm believed him to be the same man who had given the pups their masks, but his face, which soon came to light, did not resemble his features. He leaned casually against the wall, and stared back at the boys with a slight, knowing smirk.

"Welcome. I am Major Suhjik, and I am your teacher."

Gorahm blinked, already memorizing the distinct, casual voice of the major, before he even announced his rank. The now known, Major Suhjik, pushed himself off the wall, and strolled forward into the center of the ring, the many chips from age now noticeable on its red line.

"This is your gym. I will be instructing you in the honorable art of close combat, and self-defense, as all young Helghast must know... But, today, there will be no lesson. I merely wish to evaluate and rank your natural skill... And let you pups get the chance to hit back at your aggressors. Sounds good?," He spoke seamlessly, not waiting for a response. "Good. Now, remove your masks, and jackets, and we shall begin."

Gorahm pulled his mask, and jacket off, and place them together neatly on the floor, as the others did the same. The cold air in the room permeated through his shirt immediately, and his goose bumps only became more rigid.

"You may sit, or stand wherever you'd like, or even talk amongst yourselves, but if I call your name, that means to step into the ring immediately. The rules are simple. Whoever has both feet out of the circle first loses, and there are no rules. I will step in if needed to. That is all."

He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a folded piece of paper, which crackled faintly as he opened it up. He cleared his throat.

"Jakob Senzir, and Argo Sween."

Gorahm spotted two bald heads make their way to the front, and step hesitantly into the ring. The rest of the boys began to disperse, and Gorahm followed Ledkir, who sat next to Grenik, both leaning against the wall, watching with quiet curiosity. He joined them, grimacing at the ice cold, cement floor. He opened his mouth to murmur something, but he didn't want to be the first to break the silence, so he waited for the fight to begin, along with everyone else. A hush had fallen within the small room, even the single light's buzzing seemed to quiet against the near-palpable anticipation and silence. Gorahm could feel it, smell it, sense it. The room finally didn't feel so small, and the cold floor didn't bother him nearly as much. He wanted to see these two boys pit their strength, intelligence and wills against each other within that circle. He wanted to step inside it, and fight.

Major Suhjik, leaned back against the wall, his face now veiled just above the lights rays, like an unseen puppet master, watching his peons from the comfort and anonymity of the darkness. He was a warrior, through and through. A matured hound, who wore each scar on his pale hide like medals of honor, as well as a competent smirk, that seemed to communicate, _You should have seen what happened to the other guy_, when one was to notice any scar or wound in particular. He was at complete ease, and command; his lips parting to calmly murmur three words, as if he were an Emperor, giving his gladiators the signal to tear each other limb from limb.

"Begin."

--------------------------------------------------------

_Four hours later_

The boys were tired, raw and beaten. They walked, silent and withdrawn down the hall to their respective quarters. Gorahm's mask hid the large, swollen bruise centered on his right cheekbone, and he knew Ledkir and Grenik had their own cuts and bruises, he just couldn't remember where. He didn't quite care at the moment. His simple bed, in the cold, isolated quarters appealed to him much more now than it did last night. He wanted to lie down, and judging by the look of the other pups, so did they.

Grenik and his bunkmates walked into their quarters four doors down. He was too tired to give his farewells to his two friends. He merely nodded briefly, at least Gorahm assumed it was a nod.

Gorahm walked past the old, rusted door, with Ledkir following. The third boy, 'Mardel, W', shouldered his way past them, and climbed up to his bunk, crawling into it with one arm hanging over, like a slumbering animal. It appeared that he had conked out almost immediately.

The soldier present told them briefly, and with a noticeable amount of amusement that they had survived their first day. He curtly swung the door shut, and it locked with the same grinding, echoed sound.

Gorahm sat down on his bed, across from Ledkir, who was sitting in the bed previously occupied by 'Yoban, M'. Not surprisingly, Gorahm didn't care, in fact, a part of himself was happy that he wouldn't be alone on the bottom for at least a few minutes.

Each boy silently pulled their shoes and socks off. Ledkir laid his socks out, and put his shoes together neatly, opposing to Gorahm who shoved both socks into one shoe and left them where they fell from his feet.

Ledkir tossed his overcoat on the empty top bunk, and offered to do the same with Gorahm's, who accepted with a quiet thanks.

"I wonder if everyday will be like this..," Gorahm mused to Ledkir, who walked over to the simple squat toilet, his more reserved nature wondering if it would be more polite to simply hold it.

Ledkir still stared at the toilet, complimented by the same old stack of newspapers, "I don't want to think about tomorrow... Right now I just want to poop."

Gorahm raised one brow, realizing that he would probably be using it right after him, "Well, do it quick, I have to go too."

Ledkir looked at his new friend apprehensively, almost embarrassed to do such a thing in small quarters, with no privacy.

"Just go, I'm not gonna look." Gorahm said, laughing slightly, then sighing. It hurt to laugh.

Ledkir sighed and squat down, as Gorahm turned away, doing as he promised. Gorahm idly stood, slowly pulling his undershirt out from his shorts.

A few minutes, and awkward sounds later, Ledkir tossed a brown-stained newspaper into the waste bin, "Phew.. Okay, you can go now."

Gorahm was hesitant to approach merely by the fact that he would be seated next to the shit-stained newspaper, which he assumed would not only smell terrible, but stink up the room, which had no noticeable ventilation.

It was apparent, to Gorahm's surprise that the waste bin had no odor, and even more surprising, neither did his leavings. He wiped, and threw the paper into the bin.

"What are they feeding us?" Gorahm asked, as he slid into his bed, across from Ledkir.

"Why do you ask?"

"It doesn't stink.. In fact, I can't even smell it... The poop."

Ledkir furrowed his brow, then chuckled, "Guess our shit doesn't stink."

The two boys talked for an hour or two, before Ledkir finally resigned to sleep, hoping a good night's sleep for Gorahm.

Gorahm turned over beneath his blanket and stared at the concrete wall. He placed his hand on it's cold, lifeless surface. He was surprised when throughout today's frantic events, one in particular surfaced in his mind. He thought of that boy on the bed, staring at him with eyes that seemed glazed now, and the crimson light that shot through the windows now seemed darker.

_The boy who was sick._

Gorahm could still visualize the fear in his eyes, and it frightened him in turn.

_The boy who couldn't go outside today._

He could see a parallel between himself and the other boy. The more he thought about him, the more he believed they were similar.

_The boy who won't be seen again._

Gorahm pulled the covers up further and closed his eyes to sleep. He didn't want to be awake anymore and simply waited for sleep to take him. Something in his stomach told him that days would be a lot like this for a very, very long time.

-----------------------------------------------x

Okay, gonna come up with a chapter 4. It's been a really slow few weeks and I've been swamped, but I'll keep writing xP. Any criticism/reviews are welcome, and needed for me to get chapters out faster!


	4. Chapter 4

_Eight years later. One year into the Second Extrasolar War._

Gorahm's chest was heaving rhythmically. His pale body held a thin sheen of sweat. He heard the faint echo of roaring voices, cheers, and curses. He knew it was his comrades, but his slightly blurred vision focused only on his opponent, Sanwil Visher, who looked back with a mirrored, focused stare. Gorahm knew there was no ill-feelings toward one another.

Sanwil brought his arms up like a human battering ram and charged in for another attack, intent on pushing Gorahm out with raw, brute force. He was several inches taller than Gorahm, and his musculature much more defined. Gorahm immediately tensed, as if to meet the oncoming force with his own. Just as it seemed that the smaller Helghast's fate was sealed to a swift battering out of the ring, he weaved low, and to the right, dodging just enough to let Sanwil's greater strength and bulk pass within inches of him.

_Strong but slow, Sanny._

Sanwil whirled around frantically, but it was too late. Gorahm leapt onto his back, and latched his arms around his neck tightly, his legs tense to keep his footing on the aggressive, larger fighter. Sanwil swung and tossed Gorahm around wildly, but he could not dislodge his grip. Gorahm clung tightly, the sweat on his body making it difficult to keep his hold. The air smelled thick and organically dirty to him. He no longer relied on his eyes. Grappling this close with someone required feeling rather than seeing. Sanwil began swinging his elbows back into Gorahm's open ribcage, knocking the breath from his lungs, but still not enough to remove him. Uttering a growl, Gorahm sought to end the bout now. Gorahm was smaller and weaker, but faster and smarter. He preferred it that way.

Sanwil stood with his back near the red circle's border, increasing his chance of victory. If his smaller opponent happened to lose his grip or get knocked off, he would have him trapped. Sanwil was certain he had Gorahm in a desperate situation. Suddenly, and much to Sanwil's surprise, he felt the hold around his neck tighten immensely.

Gorahm had hooked his right arm around Sanwil with enough force to support his entire weight. The smaller Helghast felt his booted feet touch the cement floor, and in less than a second he propelled himself up in an energetic jump. He came down like dead weight, wrapped like a noose around Sanwil's neck. It took him by surprise as his balance was tipped heavily behind him. As his large legs attempted to catch himself from falling, their backpedalling motion drove them blindly into Gorahm's outstretched thigh. It was a perfectly timed attack. The combined energy of Gorahm's weight, and Sanwil's instinctive attempt to regain his balance was enough to allow Gorahm to aggressively toss him over his leg and out of the ring.

Sanwil nearly rolled into a couple of his comrades who were seated with their backs to the wall. He staggered to his feet, his balance coming back to him after the jarring throw from the ring. He placed one hand around his bruised neck, and coughed a few times.

Gorahm exhaled from his nostrils, his breathing slowing considerably until it was at a normal tempo. He was approached by Sanwil who begrudgingly held his hand out to shake the victor. Gorahm understood. Honorable competitiveness was admirable, but no one liked to lose. He took his hand and shook it, as Sanwil's large hand clasped strongly on his shoulder.

"One of these days, I'm going to get a hold on you, and just squeeze until you shit your intestines out!," He exclaimed with a wide grin. Something told Gorahm that Sanwil may actually attempt that, if they ever sparred together again.

"Well, it's better than trying to take a crap in that little, fucking squat toilet," Gorahm quickly answered, with mock-enthusiasm, eliciting laughter from the boys around him, "Good fight, Sanny."

"Good fight," He responded, turning to the jeers and laughter of his own group of friends, who were more than happy to joke and recap about his rather humiliating loss.

Gorahm approached Ledkir and Grenik, who were sitting together where they had for years on the cold, concrete wall, although none of them even noticed it since they first stepped foot inside the room. The frail, frightened boys, who were led about the halls silently had grown into strong, fierce soldiers, on the cusp of manhood.

"Now that was fuckin' cool," Grenik commented, to Gorahm's satisfaction. "About time he got into the ring with you. Sanwil thinks just cause he's the biggest, no one can beat him."

"Proved him wrong," Ledkir murmured with a chuckle. "You should've raped him, that would've been more humiliating."

Gorahm and Grenik both laughed, glancing over to make sure, Sanwil hadn't heard. Gorahm shrugged and argued, "And have him rip my cock off? I'll pass, thanks. Besides, I thought you liked my cock."

More laughter, especially from Grenik. Ledkir jabbed him in the side which was still raw from the heavy swing he incurred from Sanwil.

"Ow-Hey! Watch it, asshole. Sanwil nailed me right there," Gorahm groaned and placed one hand on it lightly, "That shit's tender..."

Ledkir joined with Grenik in his laughter, as it was with his friends. They were all very close, and it was normal for them to be the butt of one another's jokes, as depraved and foulmouthed as they were.

Throughout their banter, they would sometimes throw a curse or cheer at one of the combatants in the ring. Gorahm enjoyed the cool ground on his sore body, taking some attention away from the areas that were sore or bruised more. He sighed and wiped the beads of sweat from his pallid brow with the back of his wrist.

The room was abound with noise as the boys roared over one another to the current opponents within the ring. Gorahm looked over to his two friends and spoke casually.

"There's supposed to be another drill today..."

"Yeah," Ledkir responded, his gaze still fixed on the current fight. "It's at five.. Should leave us enough time to relax and get some food."

"Yeah. Maybe we'll catch a movie.. You still have that magazine? Y'know, the one with the girls?," Gorahm murmured in a hushed tone, just barely audible over the surrounding racket.

"The porno? Sure. They've done contraband checks four times in the last month, and they still couldn't find it," Ledkir responded with a sort of wry grin.

Gorahm chuckled, "Remember the time I had to hid that info-stick up my ass? Fuck, the contraband officer was looking at me like I was constipated!"

Ledkir laughed, nodding. "You looked constipated, to be honest. You sure that info-stick isn't the only thing you shove up there?"

"Ha-ha-ha. Fuck you."

* * *

Gorahm and Ledkir walked down the darkened, concrete halls. The maze-work of corridors, which had appeared dilapidated at first, now seemed right at home for the two Helghast. Within their first two years of living in the light-less halls, they had mapped out it's corridors to memory. One year after that, they were old enough to not have to be supervised from location to location. Gorahm enjoyed the small amount of freedom within the rigid constraints of the academy.

The two walked into their room, which had also changed dramatically over the years. Various items and trophies were set and placed around the room as well as large containers sticking halfway out from under their beds. Gorahm knew what was inside his, but every time he saw it, he couldn't help but be intrigued. What some may consider trivial, or even downright useless junk, had garnered his interest and he had a plethora of neat items which he'd acquired from various missions and patrols within the city.

"What should we watch? We have about three hours before we have to gear up," Ledkir said, pulling an info-stick from beneath his pillow. The same one Gorahm had sourly reminisced of hiding in an uncomfortable place.

"Find one of those scary films," Gorahm murmured, as he stripped naked to slip into dryer clothes. "Like, those monster ones. If it's bad, at least we can get a laugh out of it."

Ledkir nodded, walking over to his bed, where his personal data-reader sat, inactive. He plucked it up, and opened it, letting the large screen flicker to life. He clicked the info-stick in, and began working through the assortment of files.

Gorahm and Ledkir had both agreed they'd hit a goldmine when they confiscated the info-stick from a civilian. It was crammed with old, Vektan movies. Gorahm had to admit, the Vektan scum sure knew how to tell a story.

Ledkir set his reader down on the bed. "It's reading. Takes a little bit to get the damn files to go through. Vektan movies aren't really what they had in mind when they assigned these things to us." He leaned over his bed and reached behind it, pulling out a small, metal container. Gorahm knew what was inside.

Ledkir sat on his bed and pulled a stool in front of him. He emptied a small handful of dry, red leaves on the stool and began to crush it up with his fingers . It was redleaf; a plant native to Helghan. One of the few that was tough enough to grow in it's harsh conditions. It was commonly smoked amongst Helghan's inhabitants, until Scolar Visari placed a ban on its trade and dispersal. Now it was hard to come by, or purchase, unless you knew the right people.

"Want some?," Ledkir asked, with a smirk.

"I shouldn't, but fuck it. I could definitely use some."

Ledkir divided the crushed leaves, and handed him one half, as well as a piece of scrap paper.

"You still know how to roll a smoke, right?"

"Basically," Gorahm responded, folding the paper in half and sprinkling the redleaf inside the crease. He brushed his tongue along it's end, and rolled it to a thin cigarette. "Got a light?"

"Hmm? Yeah," He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out an old box of matches. He struck one, and it hissed to life with a single, small flame. Gorahm lit the cigarette and inhaled it slowly, a thick plume of smoke exiting his nostrils a few moments later. Ledkir followed suite, and waved the match until the flame died.

"I think it's ready," Ledkir murmured, opening the file. "You ever seen 'Horror from the stars?'."

"No. Sounds corny. Have you seen it?"

"No."

"Start it up then," Gorahm said, taking another drag.

"Horror from the stars" was about a group of Vektan scientists who land on an apparently lifeless planet, to make readings on if it could be terraformed. Of course, the planet was fictional, but nevertheless, its only species was horrible, flesh-eating worms, and throughout the movie each one of the scientists die in an either ironic, or gruesome fashion. Mostly both.

Ledkir sat with arms crossed at the film. "Is it just me, or do -all- Vektan 'scientific groups' consist of at least one gorgeous female?"

Gorahm tilted his head. "Yeah, I guess there always has to be a damsel in distress." Secretly, Gorahm was intrigued by the differences. The women he'd seen were bald, with pale skin and tired, ringed eyes. Each Helghast had similar traits. Vektans on the other hand had a huge variety of colors. It made Gorahm a little uneasy.

"Can you imagine that, Led? These fucking people come in several designer colors..."

Ledkir snorted, "Strange. Do you think they change their appearance to look better?"

"I wouldn't be surprised. I heard Vektan's are very vain, and that all the women are sluts."

"Damn.. Think we joined the wrong side?"

Gorahm laughed. "Don't mention that outside of this room. You'd be liable to get shot for asking something like that out loud."

Ledkir rolled his eyes, but immediately brought his attention back to the screen, just as the sole Vektan woman screamed in a doomed manner as one of the monstrous worms chased her down the ship's corridor. "I guess we shouldn't even talk about it. Grenik told me his bunkmate got caught with the roach, from a redleaf cigarette and some soldiers took him out back and kicked the crap out of him."

Gorahm momentarily felt a shiver down his spine. Not at the physical punishment. Just the humiliation. "We should try to avoid that, if we can."

"Yeah.."

The two boys watched the rest of the film in relative silence, unsurprised as the hero and the pretty girl narrowly make their escape from the planet, as the camera panned out, a freakish-looking egg could be seen hatching off to the far right, out of the two Vektans' views. A cliffhanger, Gorahm doubted he'd see the continuation to.

* * *

By the time Winrik Mardel came back to his room, the last traces of redleaf smoke had aired out into one of the vents. The info-stick was hidden away, and his two bunkmates were just beginning to suit up, as if nothing of interest had happened while he was gone. Winrik had never gotten along that well with those two. That was an understatement; He was disgusted by them. To him, they were undisciplined, uncouth, and above all, unpatriotic.

Both Ledkir and Gorahm nodded briskly to him as he entered, and immediately resumed strapping up their gear and equipment. Everything except weapons and explosives, were at the ready to be used. The dangerous equipment was handed out when needed.

Winrik's face had a cold appearance which never warmed, or changed. Every part of his body was exquisitely groomed and maintained. Gorahm and Ledkir could both testify that he spent a good fraction of his day in front of a mirror, keeping his look symmetrical and presentable.

He passed both of them with neither a nod nor greeting. He moved to his bed and pulled a small mirror out from beneath his pillow. He looked at the reflection of himself closely, turning or tilting his head mechanically, as if looking for any flaw or imperfection to correct; like a computer running a full scan for any wayward viruses.

"The daily news segment says our forces are being met with phenomenal success on Vekta," Winrik finally murmured, his eyes never leaving the reflection of himself in his hands.

"That's good," Gorahm said, feigning interest. The news segments were always the same. _We've brought about another victory at -blank-. There was righteous slaughter of -blank- scum in district -blank -. _Gorahm wasn't stupid, and it didn't take him long to conclude that the Helghan news segment basically was there to instill pride in the government and military. Gorahm hated it. It felt like an insult that the governing powers believed them stupid enough to gobble up any lie they tossed their way.

Ledkir wasn't so careful to avoid confrontation, snorting as he responded, "You do notice that the news is -always- good, right?" He said, impatiently. "There's no such thing as news that's -always- good... I've never once heard them announce something bad."

Gorahm sighed silently, with his back facing the two. More often than not, Ledkir and Winrik couldn't say two words to each other without getting into an argument. Winrik affixed Ledkir with a look of disgust, which Ledkir was all too happy to return.

"I know scum like you hates it when the glory and power of our nation shows, but try to stifle your insubordination when around true Helghast," He murmured with slight impatience.

Ledkir worked aggressively, as he geared up, "_True Helghast_?... You've gotta be fuckin' joking me. I'm here, ready to kill and die for my people, and you place yourself above me regardless, just because I don't eat up the same shit that you do."

"Patriotism? Pride in one's nation? That's not shit I eat up, that's what's expected of every person on Helghan. If you can't handle that, you may find yourself more at home with some Vektan whores."

Gorahm already knew that his words would pull Ledkir into another fist fight. He stepped in front, and barred Ledkir from Winrik, who was smirking airily.

"You cock-sucking, piece of shit! I'll kill you!," Ledkir snarled, as Gorahm struggled to hold him back.

"Calm down, Led, calm down! Go outside, and cool off," He murmured to his friend as his furious attacks began to divert. Led grabbed his helmet off the bed, his last piece of gear and stormed out, growling under his breath.

Gorahm immediately whirled on Winrik as soon as Ledkir dropped out of view from the door. Winrik looked at him with an entitled look that infuriated him, but Gorahm kept a tight hold on his temper.

"Look, dickhead," He said in a hushed tone, "Keep that shit to yourself... Next time, I won't hold him back, and I know for a fact that he could have you eating and shitting from the same tube in the medical ward," Gorahm cursed, grabbing his helmet from his bed and walking off, uninterested in the belittling man's response.

Led was outside, leaning against the wall, with his helmet held beneath his arm. It's eye-holes dead and lifeless. Gorahm came up to him, and clasped him on the shoulder.

"You okay, Led? Don't worry about him, you know he's all talk."

Ledkir sighed, placing the helm on his head, which automatically hissed as it latched onto his armor. The goggled eyes lit up into fiery red pits, as his voice gained a distinct mechanical edge.

"Yeah, I know," He muttered, connecting the two tubes from his rebreather onto his mask, "Thank, Gor."

Gorahm smirked, and slid his faceless helmet on as well, "I always got your back, man."

The two soldiers headed off, speaking idly about what today's drill might be.

* * *

Lieutenant Colonel Suhjik walked calmly down the lavished halls of the academy's upper quarters. They were reserved only for officers of high rank, and as such they were furnished accordingly. The walls were strewn with portraits of the many Helghast heroes, living and dead. Trophies of notable victories were placed to instill pride, as well as trophies of losses, to show testament to Helghan's undying will to survive. It was certainly a place for the privileged and distinguished.

Suhjik's heavy boots walked along the carpeted floor, as the red sun's glare pierced through the tall windows. His form was illuminated, then fell to darkness as he passed through the sun's vision. Any lower ranking officers or member of the staff unquestionably stopped and saluted as he passed. He nodded briefly, and kept on walking. He was here on important business, and the only other thing his thoughts drifted to was his unknowing nephew. He'd been gone for almost a year, and missed him more and more, the longer he was gone. It surprised him to feel such attachment to the defiant boy who he had saved from a harsh beating by his teacher. He intended to surprise him with a visit after the bad news had been sorted out with his superior officer. Colonel Mael Radec.

He approached the tall doors of Radec's personal office. Two of Radec's honor guards stood at attention, flanking the double doors. Radec was always followed by at least two of his personal guards. Each snapped a crisp, silent salute, then pulled their door open. Suhjik was expected. No surprise there.

Suhjik walked calmly into Radec's office. The walls were lined with old books and trophies from previous campaigns. The prestigious Colonel Radec sat behind an exquisitely carved desk, and held several papers in his gloved hands. Even in the privacy of his own quarters, he had no desire to remove the bulky armor or helmet. It was widely known, especially to those under his command, that Radec had no desires for anything other than what Scolar Visari commanded of him.

"Lieutenant Suhjik," Radec spoke with a refined, slightly artificial hiss from behind his helmet. He did not look up from the files in his hands, "You know why you've been called here, I hope."

The Lieutenant stood in a rigid, respectful stance, and spoke clearly, "You requested an update on our campaign on Vekta, Sir."

Radec didn't respond for a few moments, his glaring, red goggles still peering down at the files, before setting them down on his desk, gently, "Continue."

"After General Lente's death, our forces have been scattered and in disarray. General Metrac has done the best of his ability to lead the contingent still left on Vekta, but they are outnumbered, and the Vektan ships are pushing closer to blockading the entire planet off, trapping the remainder of our troops on Vekta, cut off from supplies, Sir," Suhjik said, speaking evenly from behind his rebreather.

"And what about our presence in Rayhoven? Have they found what Scolar Visari wanted?"

The Lieutenant nodded. "Yes. Metrac, and myself to a lesser degree, successfully led our forces to victory on Rayhoven. The _Red Dust_ was successfully procured by our troops. The Vektans know that, and they've been assaulting Rayhoven continuously to take the base back, before we can evacuate the weapon."

Colonel Radec didn't move; even his breathing wasn't noticeable from beneath his armor. "Holding Rayhoven isn't important. The Red Dust is what needs to be protected. I hope you've made that option available, Lieutenant Suhjik."

"Yes, Sir. There are several transport craft at the ready, to evacuate all Helghast personnel, including equipment, and the Red Dust."

"The Red Dust is our only concern. Leave the rest."

The Lieutenant furrowed his brow. ".. Sir? We can't hope to fight off the invasion."

"I'm aware. Those at Rayhoven are ordered to hold out for as long as possible. The Red Dust, is what Visari wants. With the Vektans surrounding Rayhoven, those troops will make a suitable distraction for the transport of the Red Dust."

Suhjik furrowed his brow, "So, we're abandoning these men?"

"I've given you your orders to relay, Lieutenant," His emotionless gaze locked on Suhjik from behind his mask, "Do you have something you wish to say?"

The Colonel's subordinate took a deep, mechanical breath. "We're just leaving them, Sir? They've fought tooth and nail to take that post, and now you're condemning them to death."

"They are loyal to the Helghast Empire. They will follow without question."

"I know they will, I've fought with them. Those are our people, not sandbags to be piled up and left."

The Lieutenant spoke in a respectful tone, but his voice held undertones of restrained aggression. Most of the officers were smart enough not to confront Radec openly. The ones that weren't ended up with a bullet through the skull.

"Lieutenant Suhjik," Mael Radec finally murmured, after it seemed he might drop his icy demeanor, "You were a model soldier, and you've earned every medal and promotion bestowed upon you... But, you lack something. You've always lacked it, and it's the reason you're still on my leash. This military; you and I included are all expendable for the will of our Emperor. This is the last time I'll remind you, Suhjik. Question my orders like that again, and you'll find yourself re-purposed to working in the Petrusite mines with all the other traitorous filth, that thinks to call themselves Helghast."

The Lieutenant's face was cold and grim beneath his mask, as he nodded obediently. "Understood, Colonel."

"Relay my orders as I've said them, Suhjik. Dismissed."

Lieutenant Suhjik saluted and silently stormed out. His mind was boiling with thoughts of anger and indignation. His left hand wouldn't relax, after it had been curled into a fist, the moment he rounded the corner. He walked aggressively to his own, lesser office. He wouldn't have time to get reacquainted with his old workplace, after being gone for almost a year.

He opened the finely carved, wooden door, and made sure not to slam it, even as every part of him wanted to, out of sheer anger. In fact, there were several other things he wanted to do, simply because he was infuriated, particularly to Visari's dog, Radec.

Suhjik's office was substantially less grand than Radec's, although he had a collection of books, and war trophies that rivaled that of his superior. He sat himself down at his desk, and turned on a small computer that was set in front of him. It activated smoothly as it always did, which made him slightly more relieved. Suhjik always thought he'd come back one day, and the computer simply wouldn't work after being neglected for such a long amount of time. A silly, irrational fear, but one Suhjik always felt in the back of his mind.

He quickly keyed in his personnel code, and was greeted by a textual, "Welcome, Lieutenant Colonel Suhjik."

He scanned through old files, until finally finding one in particular, it would seem inconsequential; just another minor file, to any search on his computer. In truth, it was very important, and today, Lieutenant Suhjik selected it. He waited a minute or two as a secure connection was established, before a small communication box appeared.

_"This file is no longer in use."_

Suhjik knew it wasn't the case, and responded, by typing back his part of the password.

_"Yes, it is."_

Knowing for certain who was contacting them, the unknown speaker sent another message.

_"Any reason you've contacted us again? We only have a 1.2 minute window, before your defenses pick up our encrypting code."_

_"Metrac has the Dust in his control. He plans to take it back to Helghan."_

_"Any possibility for you to stall them, or give us helpful information? 1 minute."_

_"They're attempting to move it with one of the several air transports. Be ready."_

_"Confirmed. 45 seconds."_

_"Metrac's losing control. The Helghast are beginning their retreat."_

_"We've begun to notice that as well. Communication with you on Helghan is unstable. 22 seconds."_

_"Agreed. I will return to Vekta by early tomorrow. Time, unspecified. I will contact you then."_

_"Confirmed, Lieutenant. The ISA command will be interested in what you have to report. Out."_

* * *

Gorahm's rebreather was working quickly as he breathed heavily; a StA-52 LAR held easily in his hands as he sprinted through the obstacle course. Light wooden walls were set up, with cutout doors. It was an obvious simulation of a long corridor. The blue cutout of a Vektan soldier swung out from the end of the hall. The young soldier immediately dropped to one knee, and fired off one burst from his rifle. Three rounds whistled effortlessly through the cutout's 'head'.

Gorahm rose, and kept his rifle ready as he began to clear the simulation rooms. It all seemed very surreal to him. Years of conditioning and training had blunted most fear and hesitation in these situations, even if this one was just a simulation. Kick a door down, and a Vektan cutout would pop up from a new location within the randomly setup room. Behind an old prop furniture, or around the wall. Wherever they would appear, his weapon was at the ready and he shot to kill. One shot to the head, or a quick burst of lead to the chest, depending on the situation.

Gorahm approached the next door, and planted a heavy kick on it, which normally would tear it from it's hinges, yet it wouldn't budge. Locked.

His mind went through correct procedure within nanoseconds, and he switched his StA-52 to its shotgun attachment. The under-slung shotgun was only a single shot, but very powerful. Excellent for blowing locked doors wide open, and shredding apart anyone dumb enough to stand on the other side.

He braced the weapon to his shoulder and squeezed the trigger. The rifle kicked back into his armored shoulder, as it loudly tore through the door, and blew it back with enough force to send it swinging into the adjoining wall. Gorahm stormed in and swept from left to right with his weapon. A cutout popped up from the debris, and was immediately put down with another burst from his rifle. He released the clip and slid a fresh one in, locking it in with a slap from his open palm.

He rushed down the end of the hall as another cutout aggressor swung out, and was dispatched with another burst from the rifle, fired from the hip. Gorahm reached the end and crossed a smudged, white line on the ground. His breathing slowed as he was approached by the drill sergeant. His appearance had changed very little over the years, although his disposition towards Gorahm and the others had become somewhat more respectful.

"Excellent time, Vikar," He barked, "Those pieces of paper stood no chance."

Gorahm took the mocking statement and stood rigidly, "Thank you, sir!"

"You have a visitor. Turn in your weapon, and ammunition, and you can go."

Gorahm quickly saluted, "Yes, sir!," and ran off.

He approached one of the soldiers, who's disposition to him had changed as well over the years, especially when he was in full gear.

"Good job, kid. You'll be ready for deployment, if you keep drills like that up," He said, taking the weapon and spare clips as they were handed over.

"I hope so. These cutouts don't put up much of a fight."

The soldier chuckled, "Yeah, well, Vektans aren't much different."

Gorahm laughed, and continued on, thanking the soldier before he went. He was worried about what was to come. It was rare that anyone would be excused from drills early, especially for a visitor. Who would be visiting him?

Gorahm pushed his way through the double doors, back into the academy complex. He was greeted by a very familiar voice.

"I saw you out there. Very nice, Gorahm."

Gorahm chuckled, "Yigohr!," He greeted, calling Suhjik him by his first name. He approached him and through a well-mannered hug on the older Helghan, who hesitated slightly, before returning the embrace.

"How ya been, son?" Suhjik asked.

"Better, now," Vikar exclaimed, as he released his mentor. Throughout his time in the academy, Vikar had come to see Suhjik much like a father. It was informal for an infantry soldier to display affection for a superior officer, but most turned a blind-eye towards it. "I thought you were supposed to still be on Vekta. When did you get back?"

Suhjik gave a somewhat tired sigh. Things were stressful now, and he felt himself worrying more and more over the fate of his young nephew, who still had no idea they were related. It was best not to weigh his mind down with such things. At least, not now.

"I just returned last night, and have been filing reports since then... But that's not your concern. I just thought I'd stop down and see how you were holding up. You hungry?"

Gorahm shrugged and nodded. He was, actually. Even if he wasn't, he'd still say he was, just to have some time to talk with his beloved mentor.

"Then let's head to the mess. I'm interested to see if it looks shittier than when I left."

Gorahm nodded, grinning beneath his mask, and took the lead, at Suhjik's subtle signs. Suhjik watched him for a few moments, and felt his chest tighten. He loved his nephew, but the more he saw him slip further into Visari's ranks, the more he felt like he needed to stop him, or warn him, or something...

"You havin' a stroke back there, old man?" Gorahm called back, breaking his chain of thought. The Lieutenant Colonel didn't miss a beat, as he strode to catch up to his nephew.

"I'm not dead yet, kiddo."

* * *

Okay, so there's chapter 4. Reviews are welcome.


	5. Chapter 5

The younger Helghast pushed the double doors of the mess hall open, his older, slower companion followed behind, catching one of the closing doors as he slid in behind him. Gorahm looked over his shoulder at Suhjik.

"What'll it be? Tasteless soup? Or are we feeling adventurous today?," Gorahm asked, smirking.

The older Sujhik fixed him with a slightly sarcastic stare. "Wow, a sense of humor.. What's next? You're balls are going to finally descend?"

"Ouch. Alright, old hound, I'll get you some soup," Vikar shuffled off in a mock feeling of hurt.

Suhjik rubbed his hairless chin idly, staring around the mess hall. It had felt ages since he'd last stepped into this place, and even longer since he'd partaken of it's fine cuisine. He chuckled sourly, and took a seat at a vacant table, propping his elbows up against it. He didn't return the surprised stares of the other relaxing Helghast soldiers, who took turns gawking at him, before murmuring amongst their respective groups. It was practically unheard of that any officer would eat his meals in the mess, let alone eat any of the food served. Suhjik knew any of the food handed out was all a cocktail of base vitamins, minerals, and any drugs thought to help bolster strength, stamina and vitality. As far as the troops were concerned it was just a bland bowl of odorless slop.

"Well, you're getting an ample amount of attention, Suhjik," Vikar murmured smoothly, holding two tin bowls, with a sickly steam rising lazily from both. He slid one forward to his superior, and placed the second where he sat, across from him. "So, how's the front, Sir?"

Suhjik took his time, plucking up the spoon that sat in the bowl and bringing a spoonful of broth and mystery meat to his pale lips. He sighed, remembering the taste well from his own days as a simple soldier. It hadn't changed one bit. No surprise there. "It's been.. Interesting.. You know I'm not at liberty to reveal such things to you, right?"

Vikar took the bowl in one hand and used his own utensil much like a shovel, raking the 'meat' into his open mouth. He chewed it up quickly and swallowed, a small line of the broth trailing from his bottom lip to his chin. "I'm only asking, seeing as I train for things like this day and night. Call it curiosity."

"Things are... Hmm," He thought, his eyes gazing down at the steamy bowl of soup, the general layers of conversation filling his ears. "Gorahm.. How long have you known me?"

"Uh, seven years I believe, Sir. Why? Is something wrong?," Gorahm asked, setting down the empty bowl as he stared over at the older Helghast, curious and somewhat concerned by his slight change in tone.

"I.. I need to know if you trust me.. If I can trust you, alright?"

The young Helghast set the spoon down in the tin bowl with a slight 'clatter'. His brow still spotted with sweat from the drill he had done. "Of course, Sir. You've always been a father to me. Better than my old, drunk, fucking father," Gorahm snorted out, with a light-hearted cynicism.

Suhjik leaned further over the table, motioning the young soldier to lean in as well. He spoke in a hushed tone, barely audible within the noisy mess hall. "When the time comes, Gorahm, can I depend upon your help in full?"

Gorahm fixed the older Helghast with a wary gaze. He was confused, mostly due to the lack of information given to him. "I don't understand.. What's happening? What are you not telling me?"

"I need to know I can count on you!," He hissed, impatiently at him. "Do you trust me, boy?"

Gorahm blinked, as if in a daze. His sharp eyes darted across his features before he nodded very slowly. "I-.. Yeah, of course, Sir. I just don't get wha-," He cut himself off as the older Helghast stood up curtly, giving him a single nod, and sliding his own bowl of soup in Gorahm's direction. "I hope you're telling me the truth, son.. For both our sake's.. Here, eat up. You look more malnourished than normal " He muttered, before storming off, and out the double doors, the last thing Vikar seeing was his back as he rounded the corner, the doors closing shut behind him.

Goarhm sat alone, and stared down into Suhjik's bowl of soup, blinking as he began to wonder if their entire interaction had been a fabrication of his mind. He dwelled on the mysterious words he was told for only a moment befores other Helghast came walking through the door in small droves. It was the others from his drill group. which he had assumed had been dismissed.

As expected, Ledkir and Grenik came sauntering in, bringing up the rear of their battle group. Gorahm waved to the two, and received a signal, telling him to stay put. The two picked up the pace, getting in line for the steamy stew Gorahm already had the pleasure to partake in.

_Maybe that old hound's fought in one battle too many.. Fuck, he didn't look too good.._

Once more, Gorahm pulled his attention away from his thoughts, as two armored figures sat down across from him. The young Vikar didn't have to see their faces to know it was Ledkir and Grenik.

"I missed the last part of the drill. Anything interesting happen?," Gorahm asked, smirking deviously to mask his whirling thoughts of what had transpired earlier.

Ledkir shrugged, setting his helmet down at his feet and digging into his meal, savoring the taste, or lack thereof. "Nah, but Win'prick' beat out your time by a few seconds."

Grenik chuckled threw a mouthful of food, and nearly choked on it. He never seemed to learn to chew his food first. "Ooo, nice one, Led.. Just let it go, the more you hate that asshole, the more he has control over you."

"I -never- start shit with him!," He exclaimed indignantly. "He's always got some stick up his ass if his two -traitorous- roommates don't taper up to his fucking standards!"

Gorahm folded his arms loosely, smirking. "You guys sound like a married couple."

Ledkir snorted, still in a foul mood over Winrik, but Grenik laughed aloud. "Am I the wife?"

"Yeah, basically. I guess I'll be the degenerate, child-raping uncle."

"You already were," Ledkir murmured, causing the two others to laugh. They laughed and ate in relative silence between them for a few minutes.

"Can you believe we'll be out and fighting in a few months? I know we've done city patrols, but.. Y'know."

Gorahm nodded. "Yeah. It's fuckin' crazy, right? Do you think we'll be fighting on Vekta... Or here, at home?"

Ledkir and Grenik both fixed him with odd stares. The looks alone brought a hasty answer from him.

"What? It's just a question. I mean, It's possible, isn't it? Those news segments say the outlook on Vekta is promising, and we all know those fuckers lie right out their asses!"

"Yeah..," Led nodded slowly. "I'd bet two redleaf joints and my balls that we'll take Vekta."

Gorahm nodded, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I think I'd take that bet. The redleaf, not your balls."

More laughter rose from the trio.

* * *

_2.5 months later_

Gorahm, Ledkir and Grenik, sat silently together, amongst the short rows of soldiers packed efficiently in the infantry bay. The Overlord dropship's, engines hummed as explosions could barely be heard from outside. The armor was thick enough to stifle any explosion down to dull thuds. Gorahm grimly invited the idea that perhaps one of these mysterious explosions would collide with their ship, sending it into a terminal spin towards the ground and the death of its pilots and passengers.

A gruff, older Helghan stared down at the fresh crop of troops, barking out words of confidence and consequence. "I know you're all fresh from 'school', and ready to spill some blood, am I right?!," He yelled heartily, drawing out several calls of agreement from the faceless troops.

"The ISA scum believes they can come to our home, assuming we would simply roll over for them after our defeat at Vekta. You're about to prove them wrong, very wrong! You may not look like pups, with your armor and fancy weaponry, but you ain't no Helghast Hound, until you've put a round in the head of a cowardly ISA motherfucker!,"

Gorahm only partly caught the senior soldier's words, his focus seeming to be withdrawn, as he checked his clip for the third time, as if believing he was so caught up in this calm before the storm, that he'd fire his rifle at an ISA trooper, and only realize too late that his ammo was nowhere to be found. He sighed slowly, clutching his weapon tightly, part of him wishing they would arrive at their landing zone already, just to quell the horrible silence in his mind.

"The ISA flagship, Rising Sun has fallen, and a number of the personnel that have escaped it's doomed descent now take refuge in the buildings at the west side of 'The Trough'," The boisterous senior soldier claimed. The Trough was the nickname of the poor section of Pyrrhus. Ledkir and Gorahm had both grown up there, before their conscription. Gorahm's thoughts didn't dwell for a second upon his mother or father, both of whom he'd though about much less. "I know you've all been briefed before this mission, but this is your first, so I'll re-brief you. The last thing we want, is one of you idiots fucking up... You are to hunt down and eradicate any ISA soldiers you see. Armed, unarmed, wounded. All of them. Any other Vektans we need alive. I don't care how you round them up, just do it."

Gorahm felt a tap on his shoulder, causing his armored head to snap up and look to his left. Ledkir stared back, matching him in the armor he wore.

His voice came out in a static, mechanical tone. "How ya feelin', Gor?"

"Like this waiting shit is almost as painful as getting shot."

He nodded. "Don't worry... We'll watch each other's backs out there," He claimed, holding his gloved hand out. Gorahm met his friend's hand with his own, clasping it in a brotherly handshake. "You know it, Led."

The ship suddenly jolted slightly, causing a tense air to settle upon the fledgling warriors within. A voice fizzled over the com, for all in the infantry bay to here. "ETA thirty seconds. We're going in hot, boys."

The senior soldier's voice rang out again, giving his final statement before the coming storm. "Alright, pups, check your ammo and gear, and for the love of fuck, try not to shoot one another out there."

Ledkir looked over at Grenik on his other side, "Hear that Grenik?," He murmured, the mechanical tone coated over his voice couldn't hide the distinct level of sarcasm. "No shooting you're teammates."

Grenik retorted with a slow, sour cackle. "_When_ we live through this, I'll congratulate you with a bullet in your ass."

Ledkir clapped a hand on his shoulder, before standing up in tandem with Gorahm and the other troops. "I'll be waiting for it then, Gren."

Gorahm felt the ship lurch slightly, before the metallic grinding of the dropship's machine gun's fire could be heard. Each Helghast soldier had trained years for this moment, and the almost giddy high that fluttered in Gorahm's chest was slowly giving way to the warrior that the academy had conditioned and shaped him into.

Two panels that ran either side of the dropship gave way, letting the ferocious sounds of the battle below sweep in like a breath of fresh air. The landscape was torn and scarred; buildings blown-out, with the land peppered in smoldering craters. Gorahm's mask immediately adapted it's sensory input to the sun's rays flooding in, giving him optimum, clear lighting. He couldn't help but smirk, as several black ropes dropped from the ship and the first set of four troopers rappelled down them into the ensuing chaos. The trough had become more of a shithole than when Gorahm was a boy.

If the young Helghan had ever ridden a rollercoaster, he would have related this feeling to the first ascent, just before the anticipated drop.

With his faithful weapon strapped to his form, he took hold of the black rope, and hopped over the edge, beginning his rollercoaster's descent. His heart thumped in his chest as the gunship's roaring engine's receded to the known sound of gunfire; something he'd grown quite accustomed to.

The moment his boots made contact with the ground he sped off, his first conditioned instinct blaring at him to find suitable cover and get his bearings. Whistling bullets, both stray and intent ricocheted around his path, yet he expected nothing less, and swiftly weaved his way around several smoldering craters. He made his way into one of the faceless, dilapidated ruins, only to come face to face with several of his comrades. He could tell immediately by their personalized, worn gear that most of them weren't of his battle-group. They kneeled around a scratching in the dirt; an improvised war council making their plan of attack.

One of the faceless troops with an armband announcing him as a sergeant, stared up at Gorahm before waving him over.

"Sergeant Garl. Glad you could make it, ISA cunts cut down more than we would have liked," He murmured in the familiar mechanical tone. "Pay attention."

He brought his attention back to the rough map drawn in the dirt. "For all of you new to the show, we've been in a stalemate with these bastards ever since we stumbled upon their entrenchment. We have superior numbers and supplies, but they're dug in deep," He pointed to two lines symbolizing a path of some kind. "The clearest way through is this street just to the south, but it's a bottle-neck and if we advance now, it'll be a killing field. If you want to be a hero, you can join the rest of the idiots as maggot-meal out there."

Gorahm inwardly sighed in relief as he heard Ledkir's familiar voice chime in from the back. "So we're stuck? There must be a way around."

"I was just getting to that, kid, hold on," He muttered before pointing at several awkwardly drawn squares, all set up in a row. "This apartment complex runs one side. There's definitely ISA's inside, but they don't know that we found a 'backdoor'. If we can stir some shit up in there, it'll take enough flak off of the rest of us to charge down the bottle-neck."

This time Gorahm spoke, "Sir, why didn't you use the backdoor before?"

"My superior told me to wait. Took a sniper round to the cranium just before you guys showed up, so now I'm calling the shots... And seeing as you're so eager, you and your buddy can come along with me." His glaring red goggles continued to pierce into Gorahm, as though sizing him up and knowing immediately that he was green as grass. "If your skills prove useless, your bodies will make good shields."

Gorahm was about to open his mouth, but his military training advised against it, telling him he had his orders and that was all he needed. The young Helghast became rigid and stood at attention.

"Yes, sir!"

The sergeant snickered, shaking his head. "Alright... Plaegar, hold position here. I'll radio when we're right behind these bastards. When I do, hit them hard and fast. We'll regroups at the entrance to the southernmost building .. Remember, do what you do best with the soldiers. I want the rest alive, or this whole operation was wasted.

The one referred to as Plaegar gave a quick nod, speaking curtly. "Yes, sir." He stood up and barked at the rest of his fellows. "You heard him, take cover and stack up! We wait for the sergeant's call."

Gorahm and Ledkir flashed a silent look to one another as they took up flank on either side of Garl. He snapped a quick glance Ledkir, then Gorahm.

"You both may be pups, but you seem smart enough to pull a trigger," They arrived at a battered, metal door. It grinded against its rusted hinges and cold floor, as the sergeant pulled it open with a grunt. "Watch my flanks, and stay silent. This'll be just like a training exercise," He said with a measure of sarcasm. Gorahm could imagine a toothy grin beneath his mechanical mask.

Gorahm followed just behind Garl, and Ledkir brought up the rear, each of them brandishing an StA-52 LAR. Gorahm held his weapon close, his artificial vision acclimating quickly to the closing darkness. Their footsteps fell hard against the stone, not having to worry about silence with the deafening explosions and gunfire rattling above. Garl raised a fist, calling for a halt. As the three fell silent, Gorahm could hear voices up ahead. He couldn't understand their hushed murmurs, but something about their tone - their sound, told him they were alien to his kin. Suddenly, a footstep echoed in the darkness.

Gorahm and Ledkir dropped down, pressing their backs to the wall, rifles at the ready. Another footstep. It was placid, yet wary. Garl slung his rifle and stalked soundlessly to where the corridor veered to the right; where the unknown footsteps sounded from.

Garl's black, armored form held to the wall, the only sure sign that he was more than darkness were his blaring, red-goggled optics. His hand reached up to his chest, slowly and smoothly unsheathing his combat knife, like a snake slowly recoiling back to strike forward with lethal precision and force.

Another step, and then another. Each felt like a heartbeat rising in Gorahm's chest, yet he moved not a muscle. As soon as the echoed footsteps felt right next to them, Garl snapped around the corner, out of Gorahm's view. A light clattering sound, then a brief gurgling noise. The two pups followed, turning the corner to see Garl squatted over a dead ISA soldier. His naked, open face was frozen in transition between caution and surprise, as though he didn't even have enough time for his expression to change before the Helghan's blade sank deep into his throat. Gorahm felt a slight restlessness rise in his gut. He wanted his chance to spill blood.

Garl's mechanical tone sounded out in a whisper, his rebreather fizzing at the low tone. "Scout," He plucked up one of the dead Vektan's grenades, before pointing at the door on the right, where light spilled in. Every few moments a humanoid shadow flickered past it. Gorahm would get his chance to sate his blood-lust.

Garl cleaned the knife on the dead soldiers legging before sliding it back into its sheathe. He brought his rifle to the ready, and made a few quick, discreet hand signs. Gorahm and Ledkir understood the signals he gave like a second language, and quickly stacked up against the wall. Garl took point and led them down the corridor. The sergeant stopped just inside the veil of shadows. The voices that felt distant and echoed were now heard with crystal clarity, enough that Gorahm could tell how many were speaking, yet the topic of their chatter seemed irrelevant to him.

The sergeant held the pilfered grenade in his hand. With a flick of his black thumb several lights on it sprang to life. He crouched down against the wall and rolled the spherical explosive into the midst of the room. The Vektans' voices went on as normal, before one let out a cry of surprise. All the alien voices fell silent as the grenade detonated in a deafening, shrapnel-spitting explosion.

"Go, Plaegar! Go!" Garl snarled into his radio, before turning to the two pups. "Let's go!"

Gorahm clenched his weapon fiercely, following the sergeant into the room, which now held a fine curtain of dust and smoke. Several tattered corpses posed lifelessly on the ground, while others moved slowly, disoriented by the sharp blast. The three soldiers opened up on them almost simultaneously, like a remorseless killing squad. The ISA soldiers that were stirring now joined the lifeless.

"Split up, and clear the rooms," He said, motioning to either set of apartments. He began to advance down the center, his rifle pressed into his shoulder.

Gorahm wasted no time and charged up to the nearest door, using his momentum he rammed his shoulder into it, shattering the simple lock. A young Vektan man, dressed in old, bloody bandages and covered in a dirty blanket looked up at him from the cot he'd been resting in.

"Hands where I can see them! Hands whe-," Gorahm saw the shape of a barrel lurk beneath the dirty blanket. He quickly squeezed the trigger, sending three rounds into the wounded soldier's chest. The Vektan convulsed in pain, before falling out of the cot limply, his fingers weakly curled around a silver M4 revolver. Rich crimson blood pooled around him on the concrete floor. Gorahm hesitated, before snatching up the sidearm as a trophy. He slid it quickly into his belt, and moved on, as though his last action never happened.

He threw the force of his leg forward, kicking the door open. A gunshot sounded, followed by a spike of pain. Gorahm stumbled back, and took cover at the doorway with a grunt. He glanced down briefly at his thigh, where the pain screeched from.

"Just a graze. Get up," He growled at himself, the surprise of his first battle wound vastly outweighing it's pain. He felt his blood pump now. Adrenalin, bolstered through intense conditioning and training now coursed through him. He quickly rose to his feet, before snapping out of the doorway's cover. Another Vektan, this one armored and scowling at him, bared his weapon to fire, but Gorahm was prepared, and squeezed the trigger first. His StA-52 barrel was set ablaze as it spit several rounds into the ISA soldier's chest. He cried out, stumbling back, before falling to the ground lifelessly. Gorahm made a quick sweep with his weapon at the ready, before moving to the next room. This one had no door obstructing him. He made his way inside and searched briefly. Empty.

Ledkir's voice called out, muffled slightly between several thin walls. "Right side clear!"

Gorahm took one more cursory sweep, before calling out as well. "Left side clear!"

"Fall in! Double time!," Garl barked. The two young Helghast met back in the hall where Garl stood, expectantly. The voice Gorahm recognized as the one called Plaegar chimed in over the sergeant's radio.

"Sir, we're holding position at the entrance. The ISA's have fallen back into an abandoned slaughterhouse. Just north of quadrant forty-eight, fifteen."

"Good, let's finish these fuckers. Request command for dropships, and hold position. We'll be down soon."

"Can do, Sir. Out."

Garl turned back to Ledkir and Gorahm, as though having expected at least one of them to have gotten themselves shot. He was partly accurate, but Gorahm wasn't going to say anything if he didn't notice.

"Well done, boys. Keep up, we'll be taking them fast and hard," Garl muttered, letting the clip fall from his weapon and slapping a fresh one in. Ledkir and Gorahm followed suite, trailing just behind the senior warrior as he charged off to the exit.

Gorahm felt oddly calm. He'd dreamed about moments like this, trained for them day and night. Now that he finally experienced what it was like, he felt placidly at home within the chaos. It left him with a disembodied feeling.

The trio arrived at the exit, the blazing sun now fallen behind a gutted building. Several squads of dark, faceless troops were waiting for their arrival, just as commanded by Garl. They stood at attention, as the sergeant walked passed them.

"What's the word on the overlords, Plaegar?," He asked, eyeing ahead, where the ISA's had fallen back.

"ETA five minutes, Sir."

Garl nodded. "Just enough time to spill some more blood and get what we came for." He turned to face his troops, old and new.

" Plaegar. Take Codis, and Wentir and lay down some support from the broadside. The rest with me. Fight with honor men, and you shall never know true defeat," He spoke quick and to the point.

The slaughterhouse was within sight, probably once a stable warehouse, now a dilapidated metal corpse, with little more than skeletal bones of its support structure standing out from the rubble and smoke. Gorahm had dim memories of, on occasion, going with his father to the slaughterhouse he worked at, but they were fading at this point, like a flickering candle doomed to burn out against the test of time. Gorahm banished the thought from his mind as he charged forward with his battle-group, their combat boots falling heavily upon the ground. They were a pack of hounds, rabid and tireless in their relentless hunt. Feeling neither pain or fear, but masters at instilling it in their enemies.

Small, grey helmets peaked out from behind the sparse cover of the slaughterhouse. Gorahm suspected they must be desperate to have settled upon such an indefensible, weak structure. Soon the familiar sounds of gunshots were heard. Rounds began to whistle just over their heads. One found it's mark as it shattered through the right optic outlet of a soldier just to Gorahm's right. He fell to the ground, sliding a few feet due to his momentum.

"Break formation! Take cover!," Garl barked, causing the blackened soldiers to veer off in their own path, taking refuge from the hailstorm of bullets, whether it was behind the burning wreckage of a vehicle, or a fallen piece of debris big enough to shield the humanoid form.

Gorahm picked up his speed slightly, before sliding into cover behind the emaciated ruins of an overturned ISA buggy. Several rounds ricocheted off of the war jeep's rigid metal frame, as Gorahm waited for a break in the fire. He popped out and fired off two bursts from his StA-52, popping back into cover just as quickly.

He heard Garl's voice call out, but couldn't tell where it was coming from amidst the gunfire. "Charge the line on my call.. Wait for it.."

Gorahm peaked out from the cover, now seeing Plaegar and his support team take up cover further down; a perfect flanking position. Him and his cohorts took aim, and began to pepper the ISA's from their exposed right flank, cutting down several of them and sending panic through the rest.

"Go!" Garl commanded. Gorahm wasted no time, weaving out of cover and charging forward, his rifle held firmly in his grip. Something about sprinting across an open battlefield gave Gorahm a mixed sense of glory and dread. Through his history lessons (Which he still hated every second of) he learned of ancient battles, where warriors charged down long battlefields to fight their enemies at arm's reach. At this point in time, any man who would charge down the field of battle without cover fire or armored support was merely asking to be shot. It gave him a mixed feeling that set his stomach in a knot.

He crossed the scarred battlefield first, and brought his rifle to bare as he approached the skeletal warehouse. One soldier rose up from behind his cover, and was just as quickly dispatched with a single bullet through his head. He'd done a thousand drills just like this, and his body reacted without him even thinking about it. Gorahm felt absent from his body, as though his mind was simply observing from a first person vantage point as his actions came to him automatically. An ISA jumped out of cover at him, and was immediately gunned down by his lightning fast, conditioned aim and reaction.

At this point, several other Helghast had caught up to him, paying him no mind and branching out like bloodhounds, intent on sniffing out their quarry. Gorahm quickly fell in behind one of the faceless soldiers, following him closely as he went down one of the dilapidated corridors of the structure. The soldier quickly came to a halt at a large, metal door. Gorahm recognized it immediately as the door to a meat locker. The first time he'd discovered a door like this, he was no more than seven. His curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he accidentally locked himself inside. His father discovered him hours later, and struck him repeatedly for disappearing. Gorahm often wished he could meet his father now, and break every one of his fingers.

The Helghast soldier in front of Gorahm eyed the door quickly and reached for its large, chrome handle. Just as his fingers brushed the cold metal, a voice cried out from behind it.

"Eat shit, Hig motherfuckers!"

The sound of a shotgun cocking sent Gorahm diving for the ground. The other Helghast attempted to join him, but the explosion of a fired shell sent several shards of shrapnel tearing through the steel door. It caught him fully in the chest, shredding through his armor at that range and throwing him back into the opposite wall. Crimson blood printed the concrete wall and pooled around his lifeless form.

Gorahm slowed his breathing as her heard him cock the shotgun again, ready to fire another flesh-rending round. Gorahm grit his teeth switching his StA-52 to its under slung shotgun attachment. He wanted to make this Vektan suffer gravely.

The shotgun shell left several gaping holes in the steel door. Gorahm pressed the barrel of the shotgun attachment into the lowest one and squeezed the trigger. The force nearly knocked him off of his feet, but he held his balance, and yanked the door open. He stormed through, his weapon ready to unleash death upon any who opposed him.

Taking refuge in the rather small locker were several Vektans, five of them men, and two were women. All of them were dressed in the garb of information, technical and communication specialists. Their clothes were tattered and dirty with dust and dry blood, and most of them had small cuts and bruises to boot.

Gorahm pressed the stock of his rifle into his shoulder, barking at them viciously, his voice cold and mechanical.

"Hands up! Get your fucking hands up or I'll blow your fucking head off! Now!"

They all complied. Some held looks of hopelessness and fear, while others stared vile daggers at him, yet he knew they weren't soldiers. They were all deathly frightened. He could see it in their different colored eyes, another strange difference, Gorahm thought to himself. He could hear the footsteps of reinforcements coming his way. He glanced to his left, spotting the Vektan who'd killed his comrade. He laid there, his face strained in agonizing pain. His right leg was sheared completely off just above the knee, and his left leg held together by a few shreds of skin. The young Helghast watched him squirm feebly, and gurgle for air. The ISA trooper looked as though he believed death would be a welcomed release. Gorahm waited a few more moments. He could not understand why. He didn't want to understand why. Finally he brought his rifle to bare, pointblank on the Vektan's head. He squeezed the trigger briefly, two rounds shattering his skull like an eggshell, just as reinforcements arrived. Gorahm continued to stare down at the Vektan's torn, broken body. His concentration was broken immediately as he felt a hand clasp his shoulder. He snapped around uneasily, turning to see sergeant Garl.

"Excellent work, kid. You just might be more useful than a meat shield."

Gorahm's body took over, standing at attention. "Thank you, sir."

"The Overlord's are coming in. Cuff the prisoners and take them to get picked up. You and your buddy are taking them back to Radec Academy. My group and I are moving on." The sergeant huffed, before offering a begrudging, yet respectful salute to the younger Helghast. He reached into one of his pouches and pulled a rolled redleaf smoke. "Smoke up, kid. Death is always closer than you think."

".. T-Thank you, Sir." Gorahm replied, taking the rolled cigarette and watching as he turned and exited through the ajar, gnarled door. He felt the knot in his stomach pull tighter, as though coming down from the high of battle made him more aware of his pain and soreness, yet he forced it back, shaking his head. He placed the dried, rolled stogie into his breast-pouch.

Gorahm stared across at the group of specialists, their hands still held in the air at the gunpoint of a pair of faceless Helghast. Gorahm had always wanted to see a Vektan girl up close. He'd watched too many of their movies with Ledkir not to be curious of their subtle, enticing differences.

He approached the second woman, farthest to the left. Her petite form seemed to tense and become more rigid with each step he took towards her. Straight, raven hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, and pale green eyes mystified him. He was once again glad his mask would conceal his face, as he eyed her over.

"Turn around," He commanded her with decidedly less aggression than what was normal for a Helghast to treat a Vektan.

"Go fuck yourself," She snapped back, her body tightening and her face turning away slightly as though expecting to be struck or worse.

The young Vikar knew fear. He could sense it under her voice and in her stance. He felt something distasteful with striking this woman, but he didn't hesitate. His hand curled into a fist and he swung it in a downward hook into her midsection. He didn't use much force, just enough to knock the air out of her and double her over in pain. He quickly, and forcefully grabbed her by the back of the neck and forced her up against the wall. He curtly fished the standard issue restraint cuffs out from his belt and pulled her hands behind her. They locked smoothly around her wrists with a simple 'click'. He turned her back to face him. Her face was flush and disoriented, still recovering from the blow she received.

He bent down and wrapped one arm around her thighs, lifting her up and tossing her over his shoulder. As he headed towards the exit, he peered over at the two guarding soldiers.

"Are you two going to stand around or give me a fucking hand?"

One of them snorted, "Vektan civilians too much for you, pup?"

Gorahm grit his teeth at the title. 'Pup' was for those who'd never experienced combat. He waited years to finally shed that name. "Look, you help me out really quick and I'm sure you'll both have enough time to blow each other," He claimed calmly, disappearing out the door before they could form a response.

He walked calmly along, the Vektan on his shoulder hardly stirring against him, possibly trying to avoid more pain at his hand, Gorahm thought to himself.

He spotted the Overlord dropship come into view just as the sun now began to fall behind the horizon. It's engines whined powerfully as the pilot smoothly brought her down to land. The young Vikar held onto the Vektan asset as he boarded the crew transport bay. He set her down in one of the seats and pulled the safety bar over her securely. He was about to go back for another trip, but noticed now that another Helghast was leading them by gunpoint towards the ship. They were all cuffed, with their heads hanging low in a shamed, hopeless manner that made Gorahm feel slightly disgusted.

As the Vektan's were prodded into boarding the vessel, Gorahm pushed them into their seats and slid the safety bar down on them.

"How's the first day treating you, Gor?," A voice of genuine warmth called out behind him. Ledkir hopped up onto the ship, taking a seat and pulling his own safety bar down.

"Cold, deadly and brutal. Would it surprise you if I told you how unsurprising this all felt, Led?"

Ledkir shook his head, reaching up and disconnecting the tube for his rebreather with a mechanical hiss. He pulled his helmet and rebreather off, and set it down on his lap. "I'm not sure, I-... You see where Grenik went when we rappelled?"

Gorahm sighed silently, the thought had bounced around in his head, but he'd simply assumed Grenik had fallen into the faceless droves, impossible to tell apart from the others. He had little clue what happened to their friend and it merely made the knot in his stomach pull tighter.

"I didn't see him, Led.. Maybe he went on ahead with a different battle-group..," Gorahm sat down next to his closest, most trusted friend. He pulled the safety bar down and well as slid his helmet off in the same fashion as Led. He glanced over at the equally young Treiak, and reached into his breast pocket, producing the redleaf smoke.

"Got a lighter?," Gorahm asked.

"Depends on if you're going to share that shit."

"Of course."

"Then yes, I believe I do, Gor."

Ledkir fished a lighter out of his satchel and handed it to Gorahm, just as the ship's engines started to growl to life. The gunship rose up, with Gorahm and Ledkir staring out into the vermillion sunset. Their bare eyes were blinded by its intensity and heat. Gorahm took a heavy drag on the smoke before passing it to Ledkir. Gorahm stared out into the distance as the doors began to shut, sealing them in with the Vektan captives.

"Hey, Gor," Led murmured.

"Yeah?"

"When I was fighting and killing today, I wanted to be over and done with it... Now that I am, all I can think about is going back in as soon as possible.. Is that strange, or no?"

"Nah, Led. We may not have been born on a battlefield, but we've been raised to die there."

* * *

Yeah, a little action-laden chapter, but I hope you'll all like it. Reviews are welcomed and will greatly motivate me to get chapters out quicker. Anyone who has thoughts/concerns/questions about the story, feel free to contact me. :P


	6. Chapter 6

The Overlords engines hummed in a relaxed sense outside the steel shell that housed Gorahm, Ledkir and the number of Vektan prisoners. They whispered in Vikar's ears as he took one last drag on the burning, redleaf roach, allowing it's pungent smoke to give his mind a short respite from itself.

Vikar dropped the smoking roach at his feet and quickly stomped it out. Ledkir sat next to him, staring blankly at the thick steel wall of the Overlord.

"What'd you think?" Ledkir finally asked, causing Gorahm's face to snap towards his closest friends'.

"Of what?"

"Our first battle. Are you shell-shocked?"

Gorahm furrowed his brows, where cold beads of sweat now sat from the previous battle. Ledkir looked at him expectantly, his pallid lips parted in a hungering manner.

"I don't know, really. It's complicated."

Ledkir scowled sharply, sighing and staring back ahead. "That's a shitty answer."

Gorahm chuckled, bumping his friend's thigh roughly with his own. "Well, if mine's so shitty, what's your grand analysis, oh wise one?"

"Oh, so you want my opinion?"

"A-yup," Gorahm replied mockingly, resting his head back against the seat.

"Alright, well… It felt," Ledkir now furrowed his brows much like Gorahm, attempting to take the whirlwind of feelings in battle and straighten them out enough to make a coherent explanation. "I felt like I was 'made' for it. I moved and thought, without really believing I was moving and thinking, y'know? I felt empty, yet fulfilled. That probably doesn't make any sense, I'll ju-"

"No," Gorahm interrupted quickly, "You hit it spot-on, Led."

The two young soldiers sat in silence for a few moments. Ledkir's words floated inside Gorahm's head. Was it wrong that they set him at un-ease? He shook his head slowly, simply wishing to banish the thoughts. His entire life had revolved around warfare; every meal, fight, and drill carving his actions and mind into a killing machine - Like every other boy. When he was younger he sometimes laid awake in his bed, wondering to himself what kind of man he might have become if the path of a soldier hadn't been chosen for him before his conception. Perhaps a simple butcher, like his father. Gorahm chuckled coldly, believing he was a butcher now, regardless. He now wanted another redleaf cigarette.

Ledkir looked over at his friend. His mouth opened to speak, but a sudden sound shook the Overlord violently. A few of the Vektans cried out in surprise. He heard one of the men utter to a God. Gorahm's breath held in his throat as he called up to the pilot. "What the fuck was that?!"

A crackling response sounded over the radio. "Hold on! Something big touched down! No damage, but my electronics are dying, an-" The pilot's frantic, yet controlled voice began to fizzle into nonsense before a forceful wave collided and sent the ship into a jerking spin.

"Shit, what now!?," Ledkir growled, almost frustrated that they were being assaulted by a foe he could not see or return fire on.

Several of the captives struggled and squirmed in their seats, panicking loudly in their powerlessness. Gorahm could see the same Vektan woman he'd carried earlier now twisting and turning in her seat, attempting to make sense of the situation.

Gorahm blinked, realizing the vibrating hum of the engines was now absent.

"Listen," He snapped to Ledkir.

Nothing.

Ledkir seemed perplexed before his eyes widened, his head cocked at an odd angle. "The engines aren't running."

"Yeah," Vikar cursed, sinking into his seat. "I think we're falling."

The two Helghast quickly strapped their helmets on, the familiar 'hiss' accompanying it. Gorahm felt a slight weightlessness as the dropship began to gain speed on its dead descent to the earth. His heart thumped in his chest like a jackhammer, waiting for whatever was to come. His mind was rife with questions. What caused this? What was happening? Where would they crash? When would they crash? Who would survive?

Suddenly the ear shattering sound of metal being torn like tinfoil erupted forth. The ships thick, steel hull screeched and grated against the jagged, stone earth, as the passengers were thrashed around in their seats mercilessly. He heard a torrent of pained shrieks, metal breaking and shredding with every large jolt the Overlord took. Gorahm closed his eyes, focusing on his heart pound in his chest. A thunderous crash exploded from the front of the ship, just before the young Helghast blacked out.

* * *

Yigohr Suhjik sat soundlessly at his large desk. He stared out the window as the blood-red sun set in the distance. It's gaze was intense, focused and vicious; much like any Helghast. Popping, echoed explosions sounded off from the distance, as they had ever since the Vektans invaded. They were almost therapeutic to the grizzled warrior, as he'd spent most of his life under fire, yet his thoughts centered around Gorahm, his unknowing nephew.

He sat up and returned to his desk, pulling open a drawer and retrieving a half-empty bottle of expensive vodka, taken from his latest deployment on Vekta. He took a glass out as well and filled it partially with the colorless liquid. He stared at it momentarily before swilling it back in one gulp. The bitter, burning taste lingered in his mouth.

He hesitated, before pouring himself a second glass. Helghast had little to no tolerance for alcohol. No one cared to import it, and they certainly couldn't brew it on their scorched world. A second shot of vodka would be enough to give him a definite 'buzz'. He drank it back quickly, wanting to numb the feeling of guilt and worry for his nephew.

Colonel Radec had ordered him to watch over the academy, having several engagements on the battlefield he had to attend to. Suhjik hated it.

"I'm a soldier, not a damn nursemaid," He murmured, exhaling a breathe stained with the smell of booze.

He sat back down, sighing. He simply wanted to be out there to watch over Gorahm. He knew he couldn't shield him from the bloodshed he was raised in, but he didn't want him to live with the same regrets the old hound now had. He agreed with the Helghast ideal of freedom and pride, but not the cost.

"The ends justify the means," He was told. He'd lived his entire life with the means, and he still couldn't see an end. He couldn't remember why he fought, and killed; why he committed acts that haunted his dreams. For freedom? He chuckled bitterly, now comfortably numb from the world. Freedom was an illusion, eaten up by him as a young man. A young man with a gun and a willingness to use it on any that his masters commanded. All in the name of freedom and pride. Two things that felt more and more transparent, the more they were shoved down his throat.

It wasn't until several years ago that he contemplated turning coat on his people. The Vektans were no friends of his, as it was their actions that had caused the two most recent wars between their people. They despised the Helghast, despite that it was them who forced their creation, but he knew that the only hope for survival, for his people, was peace. Every Helghast soldier would fight to the last breath, the ground burned and the people scattered to the winds and ashes before they would ever consider defeat. The Vektans were not much of an improvement, attempting to fix their mistakes through warfare, something the Helghast were spawned in.

Suhjik sighed, leaning forward and resting his hairless head in his hands. He could no longer believe in blind slaughter, but he had to believe in something, even if it meant going against everything he knew. He had long ago stopped caring about what might happen to himself, but the fate of Gorahm was intertwined with his ever since he saw the young boy in his first day at class. He was afraid. His betrayal would condemn himself and the young Vikar. Everyone knew the close bond the lieutenant colonel shared with the private. A tutor and his loyal student, a father and his loving son. The sins of the father would most definitely condemn the son merely by association. He needed to save Gorahm, at any cost.

Yigohr's train of thought was shattered by a sudden flash of light. He shot up from his seat and nearly lost his balance. He silently cursed the second shot of vodka, but regained his composure and looked out the nearest window. A great ball of white light shimmered in the distance, rivaling the intensity of Helghan's sun itself. It slowly diminished, leaving nothing but a mushroom cloud that rose high into the fuchsia sky.

Yigohr's ruddy, bagged eyes twitched. A Red Dust explosion in Pyrrhus.

The old hound, grit his teeth, his nostrils flared. His already pale features grew more so as his blood chilled in his veins. He tore out of his office, panicked over the fate of his nephew.

* * *

_Grenik fired several bursts from his StA-52, dropping behind cover as an ISA soldier offered his own rebuttal of rounds. They whizzed over his head, dropping one of the faceless Helghast soldiers._

"_These ISA fuckers are really making themselves at home!," Grenik commented to the soldier next to him. The Helghan simply scoffed in response, waiting for a break in fire before popping up and spraying the rest of his clip down the ruined street._

"_This is Pyrrhus!," The soldier responded. "You ISA's can stay here in mass graves!"_

_A single round punctured the Helghast's chest and he stumbled back, falling to the ground. Grenik paid it little mind. This was not the time to worry about the dead._

_He made several signs to the Helghast taking cover across the street, to wait for his support fire before advancing. They acknowledged with a simple nod._

_Another break in fire._

_Grenik snapped up from cover and squeezed off several well-placed bursts. They kept the ISA troops in their cover as the fire team quickly charged up the side of the street, taking cover in an abandoned shop. Once the last of his comrades slipped into safety he slid back down behind his cover, ejecting the empty barrel-clip and slapping in a new one. He overheard sergeant Garl yelling into his radio._

"_I don't care how you get that armor across the bridge, we can't repel ISA tanks with fucking peashooters!"_

_Grenik slowly shook his head, an ever-present grin beneath his mask. He always saw the dry humor in a bloody fight. He popped out, catching an advancing Vektan out of cover. He squeezed the trigger sharply, downing his target smoothly before dipping back down behind his cover as several unseen riflemen bombarded his position yet again with gunfire._

"_What?! You're breaking up, damnit!" Garl snarled furiously._

_Grenik blinked, his optics seeming to malfunction and crackle before dying. He pulled his helmet off just in time to witness the sudden flash of light bearing down upon them, like a piece of Helghan's sun itself was descending to earth. It fell behind a few ruined buildings in the distance, before erupting in a great explosion. Only questions filled Grenik's mind as he, and every other thing was vaporized in the Red Dust's path._

* * *

_Wind.. A strong, angry wind. I can hear it._

Gorahm felt a liquid pain coursing through him just as his blood would pump through his veins. He opened his eyes, yet saw darkness. It took him a few long moments before he realized the optics in his helmet had shorted out, most likely by the same thing that had shut off the engines. He reached up, gritting his teeth as his arms thrummed with heavy, dull pain. He pulled the tube from his rebreather and twisted it off. He let it fall to the floor. It clanked heavily then rolled to the wall of the troop bay. Gorahm's vision blurred before focusing and realizing that it had become dark The last traces of the sun were barely visible behind the horizon. A cold gust of wind buffeted his face, making the several new cuts across his features sting.

"Fuck… Fuck," He whispered over and over to himself as his fingers found the manual release switch for his safety bar, which lifted up with a crooked, grating defiance. He then slowly reached up and released himself from the safety harness. The young Helghast slowly sat up before crying out another pained, "Fuck!". He fell back into his seat, and looked down at the vicious source of pain from his leg. He slid his trembling hand down to his lower thigh, suddenly grunting in pain as his fingers brushed against a sharp piece of metal lodged into his flesh.

"Fuck," He uttered once more, his chest heaving. He needed to deal with the injury before anything else. Sliding the sharp combat knife from it's sheathe at his chest, he sawed through his seats harness strap. Taking the length of it, he tied it around his thigh, just above the wound and pulled it as tight as he could. Tying off the knot, he placed his hand around the piece of metal, hissing through his teeth sharply in pain. He summoned all of his strength and sharply yanked on the piece of debris. It took less than a second to dislodge the large, steel sliver, yet the pain of it made it feel like long, drawn out moments in his mind and body. He cried out, cursing angrily and biting back stinging tears that threatened to form at his red, baggy eyes. He threw the piece of blood-coated metal out one of the ships gaping holes in his pain-fueled rage, yelling profanity and vicious insults at no one in particular.

After a few minutes, he willed himself to his feet, placing most of his weight on his un-injured leg.

"Ledkir? Led!" Gorahm called, the blood loss, pain and absence of light making it hard to distinguish the state of his friend next to him.

Ledkir's dark form sat slumped and motionless in his seat. Gorahm limped to face him, and released his safety bar, leaving only the harness which kept him from falling out of his seat. His helmets optics were lifeless pits.

Gorahm placed a hand upon his shoulder, shaking him gently. "Led. Wake up."

He shook him harder, before his comrade began to stir, letting out a muffled groan from beneath his mask. Gorahm hastily pulled the tube from it and slid his helmet off, tossing it aside. Despite the darkness, he could make out the pale contrast of his face against the dark surroundings. His trembling lower lip was stained with several trickles of blood, which his tongue slid across slowly.

"Gor-?" Ledkir began to ask, before a fit of heavy coughing over took him for several moments. "Shit," He gurgled out, his breathing labored. "What happened?"

"I don't quite know. Can you stand?"

"I..I dunno.. Let me..," He attempted to move and reacted with a hissing pain. He cried out, coughing harder.

Gorahm stared wide-eyed at his friend, before looking down. His throat clenched tight as he caught the sight of a blood-coated glimmer from the side of his chest. A small, steel pipe, no more than half a foot long sat lodged in his side, between his ribs. The area around it was thickly soaked in his blood, and it trickled from the pipes other end which was barely more than a stub. "Oh-no… No, no.. Led.."

"W-What?," Ledkir's red eyes focused on Gorahm's gaze, before following it down to his wound. "Oh… Oh, shit. That's… Not good."

"You're fine. You're gonna be fine, it's nothing," Gorahm muttered, his hands shaking, afraid to touch his friend as though any contact might disturb the mortal wound. "You just need some first-aid. Stay here, don't move."

"Okay," He whispered, his head lolling back against the seat, as though on the verge of losing consciousness again.

"Stay awake, Led! I'll be right back," He snapped, limping off to the cockpit, his own pain now little more than an afterthought.

The cockpit was, for lack of a better term, a disaster. The nose of the Overlord was smashed in by the large, jagged boulder which had caused the abrupt stop. The pilot's body had smashed through the windshield and his form now hung over the jagged glass. His entrails splayed out from his midsection, torn open by the spiky, serrated teeth of the glass. The co-pilot lay smashed against the ship's controls, blood dripping from the dashboard and pooled beneath him.

Gorahm couldn't continue to stare He aggressively seeded through the supplies. Radio, tools, but no med-kit to be seen. He snarled in frustration, before spotting a metal case on the floor, with several scratches over it's black, crossed emblem. He grunted in pain as he bent over and picked up the case.

"Led! Ledkir!," He called out raggedly as he returned, wanting to make sure his friend was still awake.

Led's breathing had become more shallow as his eyes appeared as though they had sunk further into his face. He'd lost too much blood. Gorahm knew this, but simply wouldn't accept it.

"Wha'?," He responded, a question which sounded more as though he had forgotten where he was. "Gor…"

"Don't talk, conserve your strength," The young Vikar responded softly. He popped the latches on the case and opened it up. Gauze, medical tape, and several sets of drugs and ready-to-use syringes. It was nothing like what the battlefield medics had to use, but he needed to believe there was perhaps some medical elixir that could save his friend. He slowly sorted through the syringes, attempting to read their labels in the darkness.

"Gorahm.."

"… Yeah, Led?," He responded slowly, his attention still focused on the task of sorting through the medical supplies.

"I'm… having a really… hard time breathing, man," He whispered, each of his breaths rasping wetly with blood.

"You're gonna be fine."

"I don't think-."

"You're fine! You're fucking fine!" Gorahm snapped at him, angry at first, before his shoulders hung in guilt at his outburst.

Ledkir grinned light-heartedly, his teeth stained with blood. "I'm sorry, Gor.. I-I can't.. It hurts..," His lower lip began to tremble, now conscious enough to feel the horrible pain. Every labored breath grated his bones and innards against the jagged pipe. Tears began to form at his eyes. "It really fuckin' hurts."

Gorahm tried to fight his own tears back again. He hadn't cried since he was a boy and resolved long ago that it was a weakness he couldn't allow, but seeing his brother and closest friend in such a state pierced a very sensitive part of his soul. What little was left from his training.

"Please.. I can't take it, Gor. I can't take it!" Ledkir whined. He began to fall apart, now sobbing heavily, unable to hold back his pain any longer.

Gorahm felt tears begin to roll down his dirty, pallid cheeks. His hand sank into the med-kit, pulling out three syringes which clinked together in his hand. Painkiller. One shot was enough to take the edge off of minor wounds. Two was the maximum, for life-threatening injuries.

He un-capped the first syringe and quickly jabbed its end into Ledkir's leg. The liquid numbing solution slowly coursed through his body, but could not erase the intense pain and suffering that gripped his friends form. He quickly un-capped the second and jabbed it in as well. After a few moments, his pain began to subside, yet he still sobbed.

Gorahm reached out and embraced his doomed brother, listening as he wept uncontrollably into his shoulder.

"Don't leave me," Ledkir whimpered, his hands feebly attempting to grasp at him. He was too doped up to hold on, and his fingers could only claw at him weakly.

"Okay, Led. I'm not going anywhere." Gorahm murmured blankly, holding him tighter. He felt the third syringe in his fingers. His bond brother's execution and final release from an otherwise slow, unbearable death. No communication. Crashed in the middle of the Helghan wasteland. The young Vikar doubted his own chance of survival, let alone Ledkir's.

Gorahm hesitantly popped the cap on the syringe and slowly slid the final needle into his comrade's thigh. He embraced Led even tighter as the third dose of the agent worked through his veins. Ledkir's sobbing slowly calmed, and he relaxed into Gorahm, no longer feeling pain and simply succumbing to a deep, eternal rest that called to him. Ledkir's sleepy breaths moved weakly across the back of his neck before they finally ceased. He hoped to whatever higher power of fate that he had done the right thing, even though every part of him screamed that it was wrong.

Gorahm didn't move, simply holding Ledkir's body in his arms. He didn't want to accept what had transpired, but there was nothing he could do to quell the pain.

He slowly stood up, the pain in his thigh completely ignored. He gently sat Ledkir's body back against the seat. The Helghast's vacant eyes were half-lidded and wet with tears. He silently reached out and dragged his fingers down his face, shutting his eyes. He couldn't bare to meet them.

He needed to leave, he couldn't be here any longer. He still had to complete his mission.

Gorahm blinked, idly wiping the tears from his face with his sleeve. He had to see if any of the Vektans survived the crash.

He slowly limped his way over to the other side of the passenger bay, carrying the med-kit under his arm.

_Five males, two females._

His ruddy gaze eyed the set of seats slowly, immediately seeing that five of the safety bars had released, for reasons he didn't know. Four hand-cuffed bodies were strewn along the steel floor of the passenger bay. Perhaps a malfunction. Perhaps an escape attempt just before the ship lost power. He turned each body over. Four males. Their bodies were twisted and broken, victims of the Overlord's crash.

"Five seats, four bodies," He whispered to himself. He slowly peered around the ship, before focusing on one of the many areas that the ship had torn open. He limped closer, finding a spattering of blood and long, auburn hair belonging to the other female on the jagged edge of the hole. "Case solved," He muttered darkly. The fifth had been thrown from the ship. Definitely dead.

_One male, one female._

He limped back over to the two Vektans who's safety bars held strong. He felt no regret at the loss of numbers beyond the loss to the mission itself. He grabbed the male's chin and turned his head aside. The man did not stir. He pressed two fingers to the side of his neck, searching for a pulse.

_One female left. All this shit for one possibly dead female._

He clenched his fists angrily, seething in vile hatred. "We bust our asses catching you all alive and you're all fucking dying!" He barked furiously, rearing a fist back and punching the dead Vektan square in the face. He imagined the man screaming in pain at a broken nose. He wanted him to spring to life, as though beating him would make the man drop his façade of being dead, as ludicrous as it sounded. Gorahm continued to beat the corpse's face with his fist, before finally ceasing, growling with every exhalation. Something stirred in the corner of his eye.

_The black-haired female moved._

This thought prevailed in his mind. She did move. A conscious movement. Was she awake? Had she been spying? The idea set a nauseas ache in his gut, wondering if she might have been eavesdropping on his vulnerable, last moments with Ledkir.

_Ledkir doesn't care. He's dead._

Gorahm shook the thought away, ignoring the spike of pain in his leg as he zipped up in front of the Vektan female. His eyes were wild and angry to hide any pain. Physical and emotional.

"I know you're not dead," He muttered. "Wake up!"

Black tresses now hung over her face, hiding it from his. She remained still and silent, but her hair swayed with each frightened breath she took. Her lower lip sustained a cut, and her face was a myriad of bruises. He assumed there were more along her body.

Knowing this Vektan had survived, Gorahm didn't waste another word. He plucked up the dropped med-kit, taking one of the painkillers and jabbing it into his thigh. He welcomed the relief as the scorching pain in his leg died away, yet he knew it would with a vengeance. He would grab essential supplies and make his way to Radec Academy. He knew it wasn't a great plan, but he had little alternative.

He took the rest of the painkiller and adrenaline syringes, slipping them in his thigh pocket. He would need the synthetic relief and energy on this fool's trek.

The young Helghast jumped back into the cockpit and plucked up a pair of flares that had fallen onto the floor. He slipped them behind his belt, next to the stolen M4 revolver. He would need these to signal any aircraft of his distress.

Finally, he took a pair of dark rags. It would offer some protection for their breathing if a sandstorm kicked up. His StA18 regulation sidearm sat in his belt holster, and his combat knife slid securely into its sheathe.

Gorahm stood tall and rolled his bruised shoulders, satisfied with the last minute supplies. He walked back to the Vektan female, his limp less noticeable now. He pulled the manual release switch on her seats safety bar, staring down at her blankly, wanting her to stare back so he might know she was listening to him. Her gaze remained averted, a curtain of the alien hair covering almost half of her face. He gritted his teeth, releasing the safety harness, and pulling her to her feet aggressively. She remained silent, her green eyes still peering away from him.

"At least you'll make this journey peaceful," He muttered with a cold calm.

He grabbed her shoulder and led her to the nearest opening in the passenger bay; one of the doors for unloading troops. It was smashed in. Just wide enough for them to slip through one at a time. He prodded her through first, grasping a handful of her hair, just incase she attempted to run off, which wouldn't surprise him. The Vektan continued her silence, as he slipped out from the Overlord, just behind her. The restraint cuffs she wore 'clinked' quietly as he bumped into her, stepping outside. He released her hair, and held the collar of her uniform securely, turning back around to give one last look into the silent passenger bay.

He made out Ledkir's slumped form within the ship. He felt disgusted with himself to leave him in the wreckage. He didn't deserve this.

_Ledkir would do the same if your roles were switched._

The thought did little to make him feel better. He was abandoning a brother and a part of himself.

He stared ahead, spying the faint light of the academy, far in the distance.

_At least I have my bearings. Now all I have to worry about is enemy patrols, de-hydration, starvation, and my prisoner dying. It's a start._

_Gorahm took his first step on the dead terrain, a long nights journey ahead of them. _

_

* * *

_

"Colonel Radec." Lieutenant Suhjik addressed with a barely restrained anger. He demanded privacy from the staff before addressing the feared colonel, his haunting visage now little more than a formality to his gruff subordinate.

"What is it, Suhjik?" Mael Radec asked sharply from the other end of the feed. From Suhjik's view, the colonel stood on the steps of Visari's palace, waving in squads and erecting defenses.

"We had an entire brigade in Pyrrhus, the one you dropped a fucking nuclear weapon in," Suhjik spat out. He was now silently thankful he'd tipped back the second shot of vodka, it's liquid courage now coursing through his mind.

Radec froze, his gaze now fully attentive to Suhjik. Even from miles away the colonel had the ability to send a frightful chill down one's spine, but Yigohr ignored it. The red glare of his optics slid away to reveal a ruddy, red glare, as though he wished to witness the outburst with his own eyes. He seemed to take a few, slow breaths, as if attempting to subside his own anger which slithered just beneath his skin.

"You do not have the authority to question mine, whelp. Despite your rank - your medals, you're still the same dog you were when we fought in the trenches… One who needs to be put down."

Radec narrowed his eyes as Suhjik leaned in, his teeth bared.

"You can try, you piece of shit," The Lieutenant growled, his image cutting out.

Radec exhaled sharply, staring into the blank screen for a few seconds. It had been a very long time since anyone had spoken to him in such a manner.

"Sir!," One of his personal guard ran up, standing at attention behind him. "The remnants of the ISA ground forces have been spotted advancing towards the palace. They intend to take Visari!"

Mael Radec didn't respond. He appeared to do little more than breathe. The courtyard and steps had been heavily fortified. Sandbags, razor wire, gun emplacements, choke-points, and ATACS. He knew this was an act of desperation on the ISA's part, but he also knew better than to underestimate a foe. Like any beast, it was most dangerous and unpredictable when wounded and cornered.

"Sir?" The Helghast soldier asked, perhaps wondering if his commander had heard.

"Tell the men to make ready. Glory in battle shall be ours," He murmured, walking off towards Visari's palace.

"Right away, sir!" The dismissed soldier called from behind.

Radec calmly climbed the marble steps, as groups of soldiers ran past and around him, all preparing for a bloody stand-off in protection of their beloved leader. He pushed his way through the large, intricately carved double-doors. As they closed behind him, the busy sounds shrank away, leaving only his echoed footsteps on the shined, marble floor. Visari's palace was a grand, almost archaic site, but Radec was blind to it. He was a pure and simple tool of warfare, burning off every part of him that didn't contribute to his ability as a soldier and a tactician; both of which he was feared for.

He calmly climbed the stairs, walking along the second floor which lined the grand hall until he found an office door. Stepping through, he was given a view of the entire length of the courtyard - An ideal place to watch the battlefield unfold and issue orders. Several communication operators worked along the side wall. He motioned one over to him.

"Yes, Colonel?"

"Relay a wipe-order for Lieutenant Colonel Yigohr Suhjik, to Radec Academy. I want him detained. If he resists, kill him."

"Understood." The underling nodded obediently and with even tone. He returned to his station and immediately began transmitting Radec's order.

The Colonel stood in front of the window as the first streams of fire sounded off in the distance, punctuated by the far-away flickering lights of gunfire. His hands were held behind his back in a no-nonsense manner. The enemy had arrived at their door, and he had prepared a reception fitting for a Vektan from a Helghast.

"Honor and glory," He mouthed out behind his rebreather, barely a whisper.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------x

Reviews welcome, and apologies for taking so long, my comp crapped out on me.


	7. Chapter 7

Yigohr Suhjik slumped in his seat blankly, his loaded shotgun sitting across his lap; an old, silent friend. He simply stared at it, contemplating what he would do now. Perhaps wait for the wipe-squad to come to his door, kill the one who was unfortunate enough to enter first, then blow his own brains out once it was apparent that he wouldn't come quietly.

He scowled slightly at how enticing the idea was, like a bitter yet more than edible meal.

Wipe-squads were something even he wasn't aware of until his promotion into the inner circle of the Helghast military. They were the ace-in-the-hole for high ranking dissenters. They would request that he come silently, escort him somewhere hidden and put two rounds in the back of his skull before burning all evidence to the point where "Lieutenant Colonel Yigohr Suhjik of the Helghast third army" never even existed. Every facet was wiped clean, and there was not so much as breadcrumbs to leave behind.

He calmly placed one hand on his weapon, taking solace in the fact that he would not come quietly, even if running was not an option.

His eyes suddenly flickered up to the computer that sat at his desk. A message had sprung to life on it's screen.

"_This file is no longer in use."_

"Give me a fucking break," He mumbled, ignoring the belying message from the ISA. Within the hour he would probably be naked, face down in the Helghan wastes where no one would be looking, yet the message persisted.

"_This file is no longer in use."_

Again, it repeated itself, then again. Suhjik finally gave in, much to his annoyance. He typed out _"What?"_ with his left hand.

"_Your assistance is required ."_

"_I can't, I've been compromised. Radec is sending a wipe-squad to finish me."_

Within a few moments, his ISA contact responded with news that made Yigohr disbelieve his own eyes.

"_Radec and Visari are both dead, Lieutenant. We've had a tap on that wipe-order and it's been routed. Should be another few hours before it arrives and we only have another minute before this channel is picked up, so pay attention. We believed that a high-value operative of our survived the New Sun's fall. Her locator just came back on our sensors, but we have no personnel in that area, and the surrounding area is thick with Helghast. _

"_You want me to get this operative and bring her back? Why should I?"_

"_It's either that or die. We want you to take the code data from Radec's computer and delete the local copy before you go… Do this, and ISA command will be open to whatever reward you want. Our last transport is going off-world in twenty days, have the code-data and our operative in one piece or you'll be left to be hunted down by your own men. Transferring our operative's locator frequency… /HY6346.3/073DD/. Out."_

Yigohr wasn't sure why, but he quickly pulled an info-stick from his desk and plugged it into his computer, before selecting to download the data. It looked like gibberish, but it simply needed to be encrypted through the computers brain to make sense to him.

He had deep doubts as to the survival of this "operative". They only knew her locator came back to life, which probably died due to the EMP pulse from the Red Dust explosion. For all anyone knew, she could be face down in a ditch with her entrails gingerly splayed out for all to see… Yet a little bit of optimism couldn't hurt.

A familiar 'blip' sounded off from his computer, telling him that it had triangulated the signal frequency and applied it to a map of the surrounding planetary sector.

"There," He murmured, eyeing the signal. Roughly twenty-five miles from the academy. "Why is she so close to Radec Academy? The New Sun fell in Pyrrhus…"

Yigohr only murmured to himself for a few more moments, before he snapped back to reality. If he was even going to survive this trek, he would need proper supplies - the kind that could get you through a mining town safely… Well, safe enough.

He leaned his shotgun up against his desk and stood up, fixing his uniform so he might be presentable in the halls of the academy. The sooner he got the code data, the sooner he could pack some supplies, and the sooner he could leave and never look back.

* * *

_Petrusite spiders… I hate spiders.._

Gorahm shot another weary glance at the group of scavenging petrusite spiders that now skittered and clicked from their mandibles behind him. They were stubborn, waiting for him to die or at least weaken enough that he and his bound companion would be defenseless.

He hiked his Vektan prisoner higher up onto his shoulder, who grunted uncomfortably and fidgeted against him. The young Helghast didn't mind, it was a sign she was alive, and still conscious.

He clenched his teeth each time he placed pressure on his wounded leg, the numbing agent was now wearing off, and Gorahm was wary to inject himself again just yet. Another dose, along with his exhaustion might just make him black out.

_If that happens, at least the spiders won't go hungry._

His face twisted into a look of mild disgust at the idea of being spider-meal- Not the blaze of glory he ever thought he'd go out in.

One of the smaller spiders chattered loudly, skittering up closer to the Helghast, who responded by firing a shot from his sidearm. It splashed into the dirt at the spiders feet leaving it un-injured but sending it hissing and squealing back to the safety of its numbers who all took cover behind anything that would protect them from the familiar sound of gunshots.

The Vektan sighed softly, barely overheard by Gorahm, who was even more surprised to hear her speak.

"You should try not to miss, if you were aiming that is."

He growled sharply at her comment, which felt annoyingly sarcastic, yet outwardly coated with innocence. "For your information, my aim happens to be a bit off after plummeting out of the sky in a metal deathtrap, carrying _dead weight_ with a wounded leg, and hopped up on enough stims and deaders to kill three of your Vektan males." He wasn't sure why he needed to justify himself to her of all people, but it was relieving to have a distraction from the current hardships.

He could feel her shoulders shrug, almost casually against him. "Just saying.. And I wouldn't be dead weight if you'd let me down. I could probably dress your wound much better if you took these cuffs off."

"No."

"Glad you're open to debate. You may change your mind."

"No, I won't," He responded, matter-of-factly. "I'll feed you to the hungry bedbugs before I even consider freeing you."

Gorahm coated the last statement thickly with cold, emotionless promise, causing the Vektan's body to tense up at the idea. Strangely, it made him feel better.

"But you won't," She murmured after a few moments, "You're on the receiving end of orders, right?"

Once again, her soft voice seemed tinged on the very end with sarcasm.

Gorahm pursed his lips, ignoring her, yet she only purred with enjoyment.

_She's trying to annoy me, and she's succeeding… Don't play her games. Focus on what's important._

"So, what type of information do they hope to get out of me?"

"Everything."

"Really?" She gasped with mock-surprise, "I hope you know I'm just the ship's plumber. All I do is keep the shower water warm and the toilets from clogging."

"I'm sure you do."

"No, really. This is all a big misunderstanding. The best piece of information I could give would be how crammed the stalls are after beef casserole night."

Gorahm sighed not attempting to grasp what the Vektan was saying. His hairless scalp now beaded with sweat as the temperature slowly rose. The Vektan woman simply murmured to him idly, almost child-like in her flippant curiosity. He knew this was part of her game, and she was winning. Her constant questions, her bittersweet , sarcastic tone, all while he carried her beneath the sun that was cooking him in his dark fatigues. It was maddening, and he soon snapped at her.

"Shut the fuck up!" He barked, attempting to intimidate her back into silence.

"Why should I?" She replied, smug and simple, an easy smile pulling at her lips. "What are you going to do?"

"I'll smash your jaw until your teeth are in your stomach," He threatened.

She knew that it was very well within his ability to do just that, but she giggled regardless, seeing through his tough front.

"We both know you're not. They want me in one piece, I figured that out early on. I'm the last chance for your little mission not to be 'completely' FUBAR."

Gorahm growled and stopped suddenly, dropping his argumentative prisoner roughly to the sandy ground. She fell hard on her unprotected side, knocking the air out of her. "Fucking prick," She coughed out, despite her now aching side.

The young Helghast disregarded her and brought his hand to his holster. In a flash, his StA18 sidearm was drawn, and held level at the nearest of the small, petrusite spiders. They stood collectively still, their spindly legs twitching every so often in their desires to feed.

Gorahm aimed at the nearest and squeezed the trigger gently. A 'pop', and a barely noticeable muzzle-flash against the risen sun. the small spider split in two at the base of it's thorax. It's front part thrashed and scratched at the sandy dirt, dying instincts screaming at it to run, regardless of the fact that the latter half of it's body lay still on the ground.

Within seconds the creature stilled, and Gorahm nodded. He holstered his sidearm and turned his attention to the Vektan, who had just been able to sit herself up without the use of her arms.

She gave him a flustered, yet puzzled look. "What was that for?"

He idly began fishing in his pockets as he spoke. "Kill one of those stupid creatures, and the rest won't pass on a free meal. And just so you know, I **can** shoot them when I'm not lugging your ass around."

The Vektan merely huffed, not in the least threatened or bothered by him, which only did more to stoke the flames of his anger. "Look at you, trying to act all tough.. It's cute."

She blew a strand of dark hair from her face, before flashing a disarming grin up at him, "I assume this is how all of you hairless shits woo women: by gunpoint." She smirked at her own joke, merely to get further under his skin.

Gorahm was not amused in the least. He bared his teeth as his face contorted into a look of pure malice. He would not let this small, puny Vektan say another word about his people. Yet he composed himself and fixed this woman with his most serious, threatening leer.

"I would warn you not to speak again of my people, so that I wouldn't lose my temper and butcher you out here in this desert - But I know you'd prefer to die, to save yourself from the torture you'll be subjected to.."

He grinned inwardly as she fell silent. For a brief second, he saw fear flash into her widening eyes. He knew what she was truly frightened of , and like any Helghast soldier he knew how to utilize fear and weakness into his strength.

Finally pulling his hand from his pocket, he held two dark rags in his grasp. He loosely tied one over his mouth and nose, to protect it from sand kick-up. The second one he tied around the Vektan's mouth and nose, tighter much to her chagrin. It muffled her indignant words enough to give him some respite and peace.

He quickly, and easily pulled her back up onto his shoulder and continued walking.

The Vektan rubbed the side of her face against her shoulder, attempting to loosen the cloth, but to no success. She simply sighed and fell completely silent, her brilliant, green eyes now staring back at the group of petrusite spiders, as they crept out from hiding to crowd around their dead comrade hungrily, eager for the small feast.

Gorahm now willed some life into his step. Each second was precious to put more distance between them and the spiders that would finish their meal soon. He gave an invasive, sharp slap to the Vektan's rear, causing her to cry out in surprise.

"Seeing as you're less talkative now, I thought I'd tell you about some of the things I've seen done in the interrogation room. As a boy, I used to have horrible nightmares about what I saw them do… And that's really the best way to describe it: The stuff of nightmares, haha!"

_I love payback._

_

* * *

_

Suhjik's combat boots landed soundlessly against the red, carpeted floor. He toted two large canvas bags, the amount they held betrayed by the way their contents bounced against each other. Noisier than he'd wanted, but no one would question him, he knew that.

He had let himself into colonel Radec's office, and quickly downloaded the Red Dust code data before deleting the local copy. He fried the computer quietly just to be certain that no trace strands of information could be found. He also downloaded this Vektan's tracker frequency. He'd also left a nasty surprise for the wipe squad when they did finally come for him.

He needed to make one final stop on his way out.

He left the lavish halls and traveled back down into the dilapidated darkness of the academy's barracks. He stalked through the shadows and bleak lights above, passing rows of steel doors before finding one in particular. He needed something from his nephew, anything, a small item of remembrance. Yet he stood in front of the door, silent. He was apprehensive to step inside for a few moments, but soon placed his hand on the cold steel and pushed the rusted door open, which shrieked as it opened.

The Lieutenant was taken aback to see the room bare, with four small, hairless boys occupying the beds. The sound of the door opening woke them from their slumber and they peered at him frightfully, none of them uttering a word to the looming figure in their doorway.

Suhjik sighed slowly. The dead had been swept aside for the new batch of pups, soon to be the next generation of soldiers. It had always felt wrong in some innate way, conditioning small boys into remorseless killers, yet now that he thought about it nothing ever seemed 'right' now in his old age.

He slid the door shut, letting the last sliver of light evaporate from the room and allowing the boys' fears to subside.

"Shit," He whispered, nearly slamming a fist into the steel doors, but refraining for the young pups' sake. He turned on his heel and trudged off. He quickly put his personal feelings aside, something that came as easily as whistling to him. He had no time to grieve or resent right now.

He strode through the halls, until turning down one of the darker corridors. His rebreather's optics made the darkness easy to navigate in. He turned down a dark staircase, traveling down several flights before opening the door. He found himself in the academy's garage. Several vehicles sat in rows underneath harshly-lit lamps. Almost immediately, he was accosted by one of the mechanics. Grease, scuffs and dirt stained the man's jumpsuit.

"Anything I can help you with, Lieutenant Colonel?," He asked. "Your personal vehicle still isn't finished, the parts they were supposed to send from central got all backed up due to the fighting around the city, and, well y'know.."

Suhjik waved his hand dismissively. "It's fine, really. I was actually hoping to take a… less- conspicuous vehicle. Something about driving around a war zone in an officer's transport would invite attention I don't want.."

The mechanic nodded, pulling his rebreather up onto the top of his head. He looked the Lieutenant once over before nodding. "Yeah, I get what you mean. Well, anything with a gun attached to it has been taken-"

"I'm not looking for anything with firepower, just something fast… and quiet."

"Yeah, alright," He murmured, wiping the sweat from his upper lip with the back of his hand. "Come with me."

The on-staff mechanic led him over to one side of the garage, and pulled a brown cover off from one of the vehicles.

Suhjik furrowed his brow beneath his mask, casting an uncertain look at the mechanic, yet the mechanic spoke first, apparently knowing what was on the Lieutenant's mind.

"It's an older hover model, I know, but it runs clean, really. But there is a rattle when you dip into higher speeds. If you here that rattle, ease off."

"Are you sure? I'm not taking this thing down the street."

"Hey, look I have enough trouble trying to repair all of these hovers as quick as you guys destroy them. That and supplies being scarce… I've had to gut ten hovers this week for the spare parts, just to keep the rest running. I'd say this is your best bet."

"Alright, alright. Just get me the starter and I'll get myself settled in."

The mechanic nodded, walking off to retrieve the keys.

Suhjik pulled the compartment open in the back, and quickly tossed both bags in. He shut it securely, and hopped into the driver's seat. The mechanic reappeared, tossing the keys up and down in his hand.

"Here ya go," He said, offering them out to the Lieutenant, who took them, with a quick 'thank you'.

"So, is this some special mission?" The mechanic asked, a small smile playing on his thin lips. He was young, and Suhjik preferred not to kill him, despite it being safer to keep the military off his trail.

"Do you want to die?"

"Wha-" He bit his tongue, sucking in his breathe as the familiar barrel of a gun was pointing at his face from the driver's seat.

"If you want to live to see another cold season, you'll forget I was ever here. My orders come from the Scolar himself." He lied, but it was for the young mechanic's own good. He didn't seem much older than Gorahm.

"Sure, of course. You were never here," He said quickly, nodding. "Just.. don't shoot."

Suhjik kept his pistol trained on the young man, more for dramatic purpose. Make the young Helghast think that the officer was mulling over his options, when his mind had already been made up.

"Good.. And remember…," He murmured, placing the starter into the ignition, making the hover start to life. "There's -always- someone watching."

The hover lifted a few feet off the ground, and Suhjik pushed the acceleration lever forward, propelling the vehicle out the exit, and directly into the public street. He drove steadily down the street, as he fished two info-sticks from his pocket.

_The blue one is the code-data, the white is the tracker frequency._

He plugged one into the hover's onboard console. It was old, yet the screen still sprung to life, and pinpointed the frequency within moments. Suhjik could hardly believe it, as he pulled back on the accelerator, causing the vehicle to come to a less-than-graceful halt.

"The tracker says it's coming from quadrant twenty-three, fifty-six," He thought, slapping the screen as he couldn't quite believe it's coordinates. "That's fifteen miles out. Why is her tracker frequency getting closer to the academy?"

He wasn't sure what he'd find, but this Vektan, being so close to the academy… Was she attempting to make her way to him? Did she even know he was coming for her?

_Only one way to find out.._

He quickly popped the accelerator forward, and turned the vehicle, smoothly turning it around. He knew a back road that would take him right into the wasteland. He silently hoped he would find a person and not the thousands of other grisly possibilities that happened out in the Helghast wild.

* * *

It had been hours, and now the sun was beginning to set, finally. Gorahm's leg ached more than before now, and the sand and wind chilled the sweat that layered his entire form. He'd long ago stopped recounting the various torture techniques employed by his people:

"_They would keep prisoners in cells. No light, no sound. For hours, maybe days. Only the rats keeping you company, and they like to nibble…"_

"_Their was this one officer I trained under who used to take a knife and play five-finger-fillet with those he interrogated. He'd take a finger off them every time he got an answer he didn't like, truth or no."_

"_They'll pump you full of drugs until your sharing everything from your shoe size to your deepest fears.. Which they'll also use to get what they want… You'll crack. They all do."_

Gorahm jostled his prisoner, too tired to do much more. He wanted to rest, just for a few minutes. "Hey, wake up."

He heard a single groan, yet she remained limp against him.

_Sit down. You need to catch your breathe before you collapse._

At this point his mind was very convincing, as the sand blurred his vision. The academy was hidden behind thick billows of sand and dust. He didn't know if he'd been walking in circles for the last hour.

Clenching his teeth in pain, he attempted to lower himself down gently. His leg quickly gave out on him and he fell in a heap onto his rear. He let his Vektan prisoner roll off of him and onto the ground. He kept one hand held around the collar of her suit, just as a pre-caution, yet she looked like she had no energy to go anywhere.

She rested limply next to him, her breathing shallow from behind the dark rag, and her hair now a dirty mess. He knew she hadn't done much walking, but Helghan's atmosphere was harsh and toxic, even for the Helghast, much less a Vektan.

He pulled the rag down from his mouth, letting it sit around his neck. "Are you awake?"

"Mph."

_Woops._

He reached out lazily and pulled her own rag down around her neck, yet she said nothing to him.

"How do you feel?" He asked, business-like.

"Fine," She responded after licking her lips, yet her face seemed to betray her. Each breath brought on a pained look to her face. Her lungs and throat were burning from breathing the inhospitable air of Helghan, which only helped to deteriorate her condition.

"Breathing hurts, right?"

She nodded after a few moments, reluctant to admit it to her captor.

Gorahm sighed, thinking to himself slowly. His hand brushed his pocket, feeling the two remaining syringes he had left. One numbing agent and one adrenaline shot, he knew.

"Alright, listen..," he slowly pulled both syringes from his pocket, staring up at them as the sand stung his exposed skin, and the wind howled mercilessly. "I'm going to give you half of this painkiller. It should be enough to knock you out until we arrive at the academy."

_If__ we arrive at the academy… _

She shook her head slowly. "I don't care either way," She murmured softly.

"Fine." He lied back and breathed slowly. He wasn't even sure if he could pull himself back onto his feet. His legs, especially his wounded one felt like dead, bruised meat. He couldn't remember when he last ate, and his stomach now gurgled pathetically at him, as though he were strangling it to death.

He was tired. So very tired. He knew the spiders wouldn't go out in a dust storm to scavenge, but the dust storm itself was serving as more of a hindrance than an advantage. He stared lucidly up into the sky, it was all he wanted to do right now. Just stare and rest.

Suhjik was close, very close. The dust storm made it impossible to see more than fifteen feet paces in front of him, yet the trackers frequency remained strong, mostly due to how near he was.

He hated suspense, and the unknown. His entire plan could all go to hell judging by what he would find. If she was dead, what then? He didn't want to think about it, at least until he found her.

The last traces of the sun were now being swallowed up behind the jagged mountains. Perfect. Soon, he'd have to search in the dark, in the middle of the storm. He pushed the lever forward, causing a 'rattle'. It was small, but grew more violent as he picked up his speed. He soon eased off, the last thing he wanted was the hover to crap out on him.

The renegade Lieutenant peered at the screen, he was almost on top of the blip now. He pulled back on the acceleration lever until the vehicle slid to a stop, now humming faithfully over the ground. He hopped out, before peering at the screen once more.

"She should be a few paces ahead..," He thought, resting one hand on his sidearm. He was on his guard as he slowly trudged up.

His optics cut a clear picture for him, through the storm. The silhouette of a human was etched out in the darkness, and he slowly paced up to it. He kneeled down over her, and breathed an inward sigh of relief. She was still alive. Yet, her hands were cuffed behind her. This was odd.

"Could she have walked this whole way like that?" He thought to himself. Something else caught his eye. The ground next to her looked as though someone else had been there, lying next to her. He wasn't alone.

The thought occurred to him in the nick of time. He spun around suddenly, face to face with a young Helghast, wearing dark fatigues and a dark rag obscuring his face. His hand tightly gripped an StA-18 sidearm, suddenly aiming it at the officer. He sprung forward, forcing the gun aside just as his assailant squeezed the trigger. A second later, and the bullet probably would have found it's target.

The man was weakened, but still had some fight left in him as they wrestled for the weapon. Suhjik kept an iron grip on the pistol, using his other hand to un-holster his own StA-18. He swung it up hard, pistol-whipping the young Helghast across the jaw, hard enough to send him reeling and disoriented back. The Lieutenant swept his foot around the back of his aggressor's ankle, kicking up hard as he shoved him, and effectively sending him sprawling back onto the ground. This time he remained still, coughing and breathing.

Suhjik, slid his sidearm back into his holster, his other hand still gripped easily around the barrel of the masked Helghast's weapon. He spun it in his hand, now holding the grip, with his finger resting gently on the trigger.

"Are you the one who brought the Vektan this far?," He questioned, his voice coldly mechanical due to the rebreather.

* * *

"Are you the one who brought the Vektan this far?"

Gorahm was dazed, unable to form his thoughts after the sharp strike to his face.

"Answer me, grunt!"

"Yes, I did.. I'm sorry, for attacking you, sir. I heard you approach, and I couldn't tell if you were ISA or not."

The Helghast tilted his head to one side, staring down at him. Gorahm wondered what he was thinking about. He could only see the deep, red pits of the other Helghast's optics, a rather unsettling sight in the situation he was in.

The officer finally spoke, his tone noticeably softer. "State your name, soldier."

"Gorahm Vikar, sir. I came from Pyrrhus just before the explosion.."

"Gorahm," The officer murmured, immediately offering his hand to the soldier.

Gorahm took it thankfully, as he helped him to his feet. He was surprised as the officer pulled his arm around his neck, so he wouldn't place pressure on his wounded leg.

"My leg," The young Vikar muttered, "I guess you noticed."

"I never thought I'd see you again."

"Sir?"

"You don't recognize me, kiddo?"

It took a few moments for it to register, but Gorahm's eyes suddenly shot wide, attempting to see through the man's rebreather.

"No way… Suhjik! It's you, I can't believe it!"

Gorahm quickly spun around, wrapping his other arm around Suhjik, and hugging him tightly. Suhjik couldn't help but return the embrace.

"Gorahm.. There's a lot.. A lot I need to talk to you about."

Gorahm pulled out from his embrace, and let Suhjik resume supporting his weight.

"Well, we'll have plenty of time to talk on the ride back to the academy."

Suhjik sighed in a mechanical wheeze, before shaking his head. "We can't."

The young warrior furrowed his brow, now concerned. "What? Why? What happened? Is the academy under attack?"

The Lieutenant shook his head once again.

"Then what? Tell me." Gorahm spoke, wanting to know. Suhjik wanted to tell him everything, but he knew it would be a lot to take in, especially now after trekking through the desert.

"We just can't. Remember when you said you trusted me? I need you to trust me, and do as I say."

Gorahm wanted to know more than anything. Possibilities throbbed and whirled around in his mind. What could be so important that he couldn't tell him?

"I remember.. And I do trust you, sir… But you'll trust me enough to tell me, right?"

"When the time is right, I promise."

"..Okay."

"Go to the hover and wait for me. I'll get the Vektan."

"Yes, sir. I can make it there on my own, I've already come this far," Gorahm reassured his superior, chuckling.

Suhjik smiled and handed Gorahm back his sidearm, who took it respectfully before limping off towards the hover slowly. Suhjik felt his legs shaking, it felt unreal to see his nephew again, alive. The whole city had been nuked, and there was Gorahm still standing. It was all another thing he needed to put aside for now, until they were all safe.

The older Helghast approached the Vektan who's chest rose and fell with each gentle breath. A half-empty syringe of painkiller left next to her. He picked her up gingerly and carried her over to the hover.

Gorahm sat in the front, watching Yigohr as he placed the Vektan gently across the back seats. He'd free her once he had a private moment to speak with her. He needed to be tactful, especially with Gorahm.

"One thing at a time," Suhjik thought.

He hopped into the driver's seat, and quickly plotted in a new destination into the vehicle's computer.

"Where are we going?" Gorahm questioned, his curiosity fighting against his aching body that willed him to sleep.

"Somewhere safe, where we can get you and your wounds cleaned up. You should rest Gorahm, you look half-dead."

"I feel half-dead, if not all." Gorahm murmured, making himself comfortable. The young Vikar wanted to ask a thousand questions: How he found them, where were they going, why they couldn't return to the academy. It all rattled around his tired brain, but the calls of slumber were stronger than ever, and the hum of the vehicle's petrusite core only did more to lull him into the reprieve of sleep.

Suhjik looked over at Gorahm, smiling now behind his rebreather. His nephew looked peaceful, and the Vektan was in even better condition. He was proud of the young warrior.

He pushed the lever further, hearing the rattle once again, yet it seemed to matter less and less now as he sped off into the night.

-x

Okay, I have a bunch of things to announce. I haven't given up on this story, and I still won't if I get feedback, which reminds me to give big thanks to Gabumon Noodles, Dubious Silence and JonasGrant for the latest reviews. The reason for my long hiatus is that my computer (once again) got a case of fried harddrive. Much to my EXTREME frustration, the folks at geek squad led me along for two months about having my computer restored and fixed- Yet I'm suddenly informed that my computer was scrapped and nothing was recovered (like the chapters I'd composed and written, along with all of my notes). They replaced my computer, and I re-wrote this chapter to the best of my half-baked memory xD. I'll also have to re-write all the other chapters, but I'm willing to go through the pain of writing it again, if you guys go through the pain of waiting it out! Bare with me folks, you guys are the reason I keep it up! Reviews welcome!


	8. Chapter 8

Gorahm stared into the listless black void that was his sub-conscious. It was a dream, he knew this. He stood on the border of his lucid dream, unseen forces pulling at him; one attempting to pull him from sleep, and the other coaxing him back into the void.

"You remember me, don't you, boy?" The tough, grating tone of sergeant Garl echoed in his mind.

Gorahm spun on his heel, face to face with the sergeant. His helmet and rebreather were gone, yet he still brandished his armor, which sported several deep burns. Ones that melted his armor and blistered his flesh. It felt so real, even the rank smell of singed skin and muscle assaulted Gorahm's nostrils as though he were truly standing before him, and not simply a manifestation of his mind.

"Sergeant Garl."

"You remember me then… That's good." Garl spoke, flashing an uncharacteristic grin as he reached into his breast pocket and conveniently whipped out a red leaf smoke. "No one deserves to be forgotten. It's only then that we truly cease to be."

"What are you doing here, Sergeant?" Gorahm inquired, his tone curious but respectful.

"Beats the shit outta me, kid," He mumbled with the cigarette held between his lips. A practiced strike with a match and the tip of the red leaf smoke lit up in hypnotic wisps of thick smoke. He took a sharp drag, and sighed the smoke out through his teeth. "This is your dream. Your drug-addled mind probably cooked me up to keep you company. I'm flattered."

The young Vikar furrowed his brow, ignoring the sergeant's light brand of humor. He had questions. "What happened to you?"

"You already know," Garl took a longer, drawn out drag, before exhaling. "I died."

"How?"

"The same way Grenik and all the others did," Garl replied casually. He let out a long whistle, mimicking the sound of a dropping bomb. "Boom. You know all of this Vikar, don't be thick."

"But, I don't understand."

"You understand fine, you just don't want to. I'm a figment of your imagination, whatever you know, I know. Whatever I know, -you- know, and I know you know what killed me…" Garl knew his words were confusing, yet he also knew Gorahm would understand. After all, the conversation was merely Vikar's mind talking to itself.

"Red Dust."

"Bingo," Garl affirmed, taking another drag and exhaling from his nostrils.

"The Scolar nuked Pyrrhus, along with everyone I ever knew."

Garl laughed. "Now you're getting it. You make it sound like any of us are actually worth a damn."

"Do you think any of us are?"

"I liked to imagine we were, but what the Scolar did makes me understand our purpose now more than ever."

Gorahm folded his arms across his chest. "What's our purpose then?"

"To die. One man screams freedom, the other screams liberty and they carry their banners high, even as they butcher each other in the street."

"You sure have a positive outlook," Gorahm muttered sarcastically, not quite appreciating the Sergeant's lackadaisical manner to such a weighty subject.

"I'm just stating what's there, plain as day." He puffed idly on the cigarette, licking his lips. "We were all dead men, Gorahm, we just refused to see it."

"I'm still alive.. What does that make me?"

"Very lucky… Or very unlucky. I don't know which to be honest, only time will tell. You should wake up now, you aren't alone."

Gorahm tilted his head at the Sergeant's final words.

_I'm not alone?_

"Wake up, kid," Garl grumbled, taking one final drag of the red leaf, before flicking the smoking roach into the darkness. "Wake up, and smell the poison."

* * *

Gorahm rolled on the cot apprehensively, groaning sleepily. He nuzzled his face into the pillow, drinking in it's stale, used smell. He could hear commotion. Voices from far off.

"He's waking up," A woman's voice announced.

"Good, he's had enough sleep."

Gorahm felt a strong hand grasp his shoulder, it shook him gently, then harder, finally snapping him back to the world of the waking. The young Vikar shook his head, rubbing his rheumy eyes deeply, before blinking them open. His eyes were very sensitive to the beams of light that now shot through the spaces on the single, boarded-up window.

"Suhjik?" Gorahm asked, yawning.

"Good morning to you too. You passed out on the trip, and I had to drag you up to this cot."

Gorahm sat up, realizing his alien surroundings. He was naked, aside from the rough blanket used to keep him warm. "Where the hell are we?"

"Safe, like I said. I'll explain everything to you, but first, eat and drink. You need to flush out the rest of those drugs."

"Oh," Gorahm murmured, now spotting the metal tray that sat beside his cot. A lukewarm stew, and flask of water. He also spotted the Vektan, sitting on the other side of the small room. She was now garbed in the earth-colored cloth and leather of a Helghast civilian, a rebreather sitting in her lap. She stared silently across at Gorahm, her dark hair tied up tightly in a simple bun.

Gorahm furrowed his brow, a less-than-pleased scowl on his lips as he glanced from Suhjik to the Vektan, then back. The older Helghast sensed what his nephew was thinking, and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll explain everything, Gorahm, but first, eat, then get dressed. There's a miner's uniform like mine under your cot," The Lieutenant explained, slowly getting to his feet. He waved for the Vektan to follow him out, and soon Gorahm was sitting alone in the shanty, indignant questions scratching at his mind.

_Just what the fuck is going on?.._

He sighed, stepping out of the cot, and stretching his back luxuriously. He looked down, his pale, wiry body riddled with fresh bruises, but the pain in his leg was now an afterthought. Much to his surprise it had been expertly treated, with a clean bandage around it. He placed pressure on the wounded leg, and grinned.

"Good as new."

He bent down and scooped the bowl of stew up. Normally he would be more picky about the strange, orange confection, but his hunger overrode it all. He tipped the bowl back and scraped the entire bowl's contents into his waiting mouth, taking little time to chew before swallowing. He ate so fast that it almost felt like he would regurgitate it all, but he was able to keep the meal down after a few tense minutes. Next, the water, which he emptied in even less time. With the meal, came energy and quickness in his step. He quickly knelt down and pulled an old rucksack out from beneath his cot. He pulled the drawstring loose and emptied it's contents at his feet.

Steel-toed miners boots, thick fatigues, uniform and rebreather. The uniform was very patchwork, looking as though it belonged to several owners before him, yet it was all tough, resistant material. He quickly slid the fatigues on and strapped them secure, before tying on the boots. They were well-worn, but fit comfortably on his feet. Next came the uniform, made of several layers of protective cloth over strong kevlar weaves. He connected up his rebreather mask, before sliding it on, letting the red optics once again heighten his lowlight vision. Finally a cloth garb that he wore over the uniform and his rebreather. Altogether the armor fit nicely, it wasn't as strong as his previous uniform, but it was lighter, more flexible and durable. Something told him that it would serve him better in his current location.. Wherever he was.

Gorahm walked calmly down the steps. To his discovery, the shanty he was in, was actually only one room amongst an entire row of them. He could hear the hoarse moans of sex coming from behind several closed doors as he made his way to the end of the dirty hall, and down the steps. As he reached the bottom, he was subjected to several prolonged stares by other 'inn-goers'. They peered at him from their tables, where they held cards, dice, drinks, and red leaf joints.

He stood awkwardly at the bottom of the steps before the familiar voice of Yigohr called to him, from the dimly lit bar. Gorahm quickly stalked up to his superior, wanting answers now, more than ever.

"How's the leg, Gor? Your Vektan prisoner did a good job bandaging it up, eh?"

"Tell me everything now, I've waited long enough. I want to know..," Gorahm nearly growled out behind his rebreather, ignoring Suhjik's words.

The old hound gave him a sympathetic look, but nodded, holding his hands up defensively. "Alright, alright. Let's step outside. Too many prying ears here."

Gorahm closely followed his superior as they stepped outside into the early-morning sun. The dirty streets were bustling with civilians and lined with makeshift shanties and complexes, built from scrap metal and any other material that could be nailed on.

"We're in a mining town, just so you know," Suhjik murmured, leaning his back up against the outside of the hostel.

"Well that narrows it down, out of the hundreds of mining towns on this planet," Gorahm replied, dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, this one is special. I know.. 'people' in this one."

"What people? Why are you doing all of this? Tell me!," Gorahm snapped back sharply, his patience now dipping low.

"I'm a defector."

"What?"

"Turncoat, double agent, collaborator. Take your pick."

Gorahm blinked, not sure he understood what his superior was making very clear. "You're.. a spy?"

"I've been feeding information to the ISA, to keep the Red Dust out of Visari's hands."

"You've been working for the ISA?," Gorahm hissed, his hands clenched into tight fists as he stared at Suhjik viciously.

"Keep your voice down, boy," The old hound snapped, but calmed quickly after. "I've spent a lifetime killing, son… Men, women, and children. All for the Helghast cause, and it's all been a lie."

"And you think the ISA holds the truth?," Gorahm spat, venom in his words, but he kept his tone low and controlled, not wanting to be overheard by any of the passersby on the crowded, dirty street.

"There is no truth, Gorahm! I've done things that would haunt you to your grave, all in the name of 'truth'. It's all a lie… I defected to stop the fighting, before our people waste away in a war that cannot be won by either side! Not just soldiers, like you, but all Helghast. They murder each other in the streets to put scraps in their stomachs, against a regime that treats them like slaves. We're all slaves, and I've chosen to free myself."

Gorahm's nostrils flared in an animalistic manner beneath the metal rebreather and cloth hood. His violent instincts slowly ebbed, as he listened to Suhjik's words. He respected the old hound immensely, and the way he spoke was passionate, and honest.

Yigohr reached up and pulled his mask off, letting it dangle by it's tubes as he reached into his pocket and revealed two red leaf cigarettes. He offered one to his younger companion, who took it with a cautious nod of thanks.

Gorahm did the same with his mask and the two Helghast lit their cigarettes together. Gorahm puffed on the red leaf until the tip was stoked to a healthy light. He welcomed the smoke into his lungs, to calm his nerves.

Suhjik coughed lightly, before speaking. "I should have told this to you a long time ago, but I didn't want you to be guilty of my treason… Meena would never forgive me."

".. Meena?"

".. Yes. My sister, and your mother."

Gorahm nearly dropped the cigarette he held, his jaw nearly falling off in disbelief. "…You're full of shit, sir."

"Afraid not.. You're my nephew."

"You.. How am I supposed to believe you? Prove it."

"Alright.. Let me see..," Suhjik took a deep drag from his cigarette before exhaling slowly. " Your mother's name used to be Meena Suhjik before your father courted her. I only saw you when you were a babe, but your father was a depressed drinker. I remember he struck her right in front of me and I nearly killed him. Your mother hated me for that, and forbid me from ever showing my face there again. I respected her wishes… It wasn't until years later that I received a letter from her. She knew I was training recruits at the academy, and that's where you were headed. She loved you more than anything, and begged me to keep a very close eye on you."

"You could have just looked on my file, I know they keep databases."

Yigohr laughed, nearly choking on the smoke that still hung in his lungs. "Where'd you hear that from? The most information they keep on soldiers is if they're dead or alive."

Gorahm fixed the older man with a probing leer, attempting to decipher truth and fiction from his face, yet his judgment softened the longer he looked. "Did she know about your dealings with the ISA?"

"You're the only other Helghast that knows, to the best of my knowledge."

"So, you're my uncle." The tone of weariness on Gorahm's tongue was palpable. All it took was one day to throw everything he knew into chaos.

"Yes.. And now I need you to make a choice."

"I'm listening," Gorahm said, taking a deep drag. He held it in his lungs for several seconds before breathing it out from his nose. Part of him simply wanted to pass out, it all felt as lucid as the dream he'd woken up from less than an hour ago.

Gorahm let his eyes trail to the dirt, the cigarette clamped between his lips. He peered back up at Suhjik, his expression unreadable.

The old hound met his gaze. He knew Gorahm was intelligent and curious. Even through his entire childhood, the young Helghast had retained his ability to question and much of his independence, and most importantly his ability to hide it from others. Independence and divergent thinking was as dangerous as fire in the Helghast war machine. "All I care about is your well-being, and as much as I want you to come with me, and build your own life, I know you're not the same boy I walked to the mess hall. You can make your own decisions… and that's what I'm offering you: A decision."

"My brothers are dead, and their blood is on the hands of Visari and Radec.. I.. I don't want to go back if you're leaving.. Uncle or no, you are the only family I have left, Suhjik. I-I.." He stammered, gritting his teeth as the words he wanted to express his conflict with, seemed to evaporate from his mind.

The old hound quickly clasped a hand on his nephew's shoulder, "It's okay, son. As long as I'm still breathing, I'll always be on your side." He pulled him closer, wrapping an arm over his shoulder warmly.

"Let's take a walk.. I'll fill you in on our situation, and answer anything you want me to, kid."

Gorahm didn't know what to believe, but he was compelled to listen to what his newly-realized uncle had to say. Something about how he spoke: Wise, and pained from past trials, he seemed only interested in sparing his nephew from his own path. The young Vikar would take a leap of faith, and put aside the life he once lived… At least for now.

* * *

The sun now hung in it's late-morning throne, as the two Helghast walked inconspicuously through the bustling mining town. It had only been the better part of two hours, yet the amount of information Gorahm had heard from Suhjik made it feel at least three times as long. He was insatiably curious, much to Suhjik's chagrin, as he constantly bombarded the ex-lieutenant with questions.

"If the miners here hate it, why not leave? Or rebel?"

Yigohr chortled from behind his rebreather. "You make it sound easy. Where would they go? Most of them have families, and each day is a gamble with everything: Food, water, safety. They do what they can, and a lot stoop to much lower levels, which I'll tell you about later. Soldiers are always stationed on any of the exits and entrances. They'll turn away a starving man if he doesn't have proper paperwork."

"Then how did you get us in?"

The older Helghast smirked, a small amount of pride in his words, even through the mechanical tone of his mask. "Everyone and everything has a price, remember that. The guards were more than happy to let us through, without paperwork, but it took some talking and a little redleaf."

"What'd you tell them?" Gorahm asked, like a boy much younger than himself. He'd never known Suhjik to be a smooth-talker with strangers. He was a Lieutenant after all, or at least used to be. Men in his position didn't barter for what they wanted.

"I told them you'd been bitten by one of the spiders, and I needed to take you to the mining town's resident doctor ASAP. They were unsympathetic. I expected as much, so I gave them some redleaf herb, and fed them some story that was sympathetic to my case, although I suspect it was mostly the 'leaf'," Suhjik murmured. "Which reminds me, try not to mention you're a soldier, we want to tread softly - in fact, try not to talk to anyone.."

Gorahm nodded slowly, his eye catching several Helghan women who grinned and called out to him and his uncle from the windows of one of the run-down shanties. They all yelled over one another, attempting to catch the attention of any man they saw.

"Prostitutes.. Stay away from them. They're just as likely to slit your throat and rob you, as they are to do all the things they 'promise'.."

Gorahm offered one last look over his shoulder, furrowing his brow as they continued to call and coo, before turning their attention to closer, or more interested targets.

"This place is about survival, kid, and keeping a low-profile is one of your best chances here," Suhjik murmured, shaking his nephew from his thoughts.

"How do you know so much about all of this?"

"Heh, I've been around, y'know? I wasn't always an officer. I've been here a few times before. It used to be a little more docile in my day… but things have gotten worse. The military pays miners in 'Worker tickets', the closest thing to legal tender they have, and every week, the military picks up the shipment. If it's a little light, they get less, if more, they get less. If the weekly shipments are continuously light, the military may move the mining town to colonize near a more promising petrusite vein. In more.. 'extreme' situations, they might liquidate the entire town."

Gorahm blinked, but remained silent as his uncle continued on from his spout of knowledge that the young hound had previously never known of.

"Worker tickets are used to purchase everything from clothes to food, but there's never enough, and soon, anything of worth is bartered. Redleaf, shoes, guns, it's all 'legal tender' as far as anyone's concerned," He sighed slowly, as if reading his words from a text. "And when it comes down to basic human desire, there's no limit to what they'll do. Prostitution, guns and organ trades, all run by warring gangs. The gangs are the worst. Just keep your head down, and trouble may not find you."

Gorahm nodded slowly, keeping in pace with his elder. He was fascinated by the town and it's inner-workings. The many shanties were built flimsily next to, and on top of each other. Stands and rusty caravans loitered the crowded streets, peddling wares of any kind that would interest those in the community.

Suhjik began to slow, grabbing his nephew's shoulder before he could wander out of arm's reach. It was much like supervising a child. "We should turn back, there's someone I need to speak with back at the hostel. I also want to make sure our Vektan is secure and comfortable."

Gorahm nodded, but let out an indignant snort at the mention of the Vektan. The older hound could sense the youth's stubborn animosity.

"I don't know what went on between you two in the desert, but you should make amends.."

"She's a Vektan," Gorahm stated, like the word Vektan may as well have been 'Evil'.

"I didn't say you had to become bosom-buddies; just put aside your feelings for now, after all, you're going to have to keep an eye on her while I sort our departure out."

The young Helghast looked at his elder as the unwanted responsibility was placed on his shoulders. "You're not serious. I don't want to baby-sit that obnoxious bitch! If anything, I'll end up killing her before anyone else thinks to!"

The old hound chuckled and teased the young warrior, "Aw, can't handle one little Vektan girl?" He laughed harder as Gorahm punched him in the shoulder. He knew his nephew wouldn't refuse his uncle's orders, more out of dishonor.

A Helghast soldier afraid of being in a Vektan woman's presence. It sounded even more ridiculous in Gorahm's head.

* * *

"Yigohr and Gorahm both stepped into the hostel, the afternoon sun no longer beating down upon them. Gorahm personally welcomed the calm shadows of the cantina, and slowly followed his uncle between the filled tables, and up to the bar. The ex-lieutenant slid his rebreather off his face, and subtly addressed the bartender, who upon a few hushed words, suddenly cried out in exclamation.

"Yigohr!" The bartender greeted. He was an older Helghast; Gorahm pegged him to be at least fifteen years Suhjik's elder. His face was slightly blemished and marred, yet his toothy grin was genuinely kind as he clasped hands strongly with his uncle.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, Eiml," Yigohr murmured, both men laughing good-naturedly.

"I'm getting older," He rasped. "A lifetime in the mines, and all I have to show for it is some bad lung burn, and this shit hole," He cursed, waving at the hostel. Gorahm surmised that this man was it's owner, or the closest thing to.

"Yeah, I was here earlier, but I didn't see you."

"Sorry about that," Eiml said, clearing his throat. "It's the lungs.. I wake up in the middle of the night, out of breathe just from sleeping!" He exclaimed, suddenly breaking out into a fit of coughs. Suhjik remained motionless, waiting for the coughing fit to subside.

"So, Yigohr," Eiml murmured as soon as he could control his rasps. "I don't think the high-and-mighty soldier is here to pay me a visit.. What brings you here?" His failing eyes suddenly snapped to Gorahm.

"And who is your friend?"

Suhjik waved his hand dismissively. "Just my assistant, he needs no introduction."

Gorahm nodded respectfully, but said nothing. His rebreather kept his face obscured and shadowed from any inquisitive stares the old barkeep gave him. Suhjik leaned forward, his tone hushed, forcing the Eiml to lean forward as well.

"We're here to see the woman who's working on the junker in the back."

Eiml's weathered eyes seemed vacant before he finally recalled what Suhjik spoke of. "Ah, yes! You're with her? Quite a spitfire, she is, hehe… If I was a young man again, I'd…" He chuckled a few moments, a wondering grin upon his frail face. Gorahm knew he wouldn't be so fond if he knew that a Vektan was hidden under the hood and rebreather. "She, uh - She's in the back… You want to see her?"

A quick nod from Suhjik confirmed what the elderly miner already knew, and he disappeared behind the bar, several small sounds resonating to Gorahm's ears before Eiml finally popped back up, a rusty pair of keys held in his bony fingers. "This way."

The pair ambled calmly around the bar, passing a few solemn drinkers. Eiml's bony hands struggled to turn the key in the old lock, but the sound of the key turning signaled his success. Eiml waved the pair in behind him and shut the door securely, not bothering to re-lock it from the other side.

Gorahm remained silent, wary of the old Helghast despite his apparent warmth to Suhjik. Eiml mumbled softly, as he led them down a flight of stairs. to a door at the bottom where light flooded from beneath it. "You're uh, You're friend has been quite busy on your hover… I gave her some spare tools I had lying around, but she kept asking when you would return.. Little did I know that you would be, well, YOU." He exclaimed, gesturing gingerly to Yigohr, who merely nodded in turn. "Well, I'll give you your privacy. Come have a drink with me later, Yigohr, I'd like to catch up if you have the time."

"I will Eiml, and thank you," Suhjik replied curtly, inclining his head respectfully to the elder, who smiled back, before making his way back up the steps. Gorahm and Yigohr both turned to the door, the latter opening it and stepping inside.

The hover was parked inside the makeshift garage, the it had entered in was now shut and locked to ward away thieves. Anyone who left a vehicle unattended in the street would find it stripped of anything valuable.

"Vektan," Yigohr called out, unable to spot the alien woman in the small quarters.

"I have a name," She responded from beneath the hover, her tone indignant and agitated, as though ready to lose it's temper. "You should learn it if we're going to be traveling together."

Suhjik nodded as she slid out from beneath the hover, "Fair enough. What is your name, then?" He asked, lacking any formal apology. Gorahm could tell that any shred of cordiality to the Vektan came from necessity to keep her pleased. It was certainly a different side of the Lieutenant.

She stood up, pulling her hood down, and sliding the rebreather down around her neck. She clutched a rusted multi-tool, with her hands on her hips. A thin sheen of sweat lingered on her forehead from her tinkering on the hover. Her body as well as her expression communicated distaste to the Lieutenant's tone. "Allison Petit," She announced, holding a hand out in official greeting.

Gorahm remained where he stood, folding his arms tightly; a distinct decline to her welcome. Suhjik on the other hand stretched one arm out and took her hand gently.

"Yigohr Suhjik," He replied business-like, but friendly enough to the Vektan's taste. A small smile danced across her lips briefly.

"And your friend?"

Suhjik glanced over his shoulder at Gorahm, staring at him for mere moments behind his leering optics before the young hound finally relinquished.

"Gorahm Vikar," He muttered behind a short sigh. He was adamant in his coldness towards her, but she only rolled her eyes slightly.

Suhjik broke the silence, turning his artificial gaze back to Allison, "When will the hover be ready?"

She sighed her obvious frustration with the craft, clamping two fingers on the bridge of her nose. "Well, my know-how of these vehicles is small, but I think I found the problem. The 'rattle' was a loose plug, or something. It's called a-," She thought harder, attempting to remember what the diagram had called it. "-A tri-axle stabilizer, something like that; it sits just beneath the exhaust port."

Suhjik nodded, but Gorahm could not make heads or tails of her words. He was one educated in the destruction of vehicles, not their repair.

"What are you getting at?," Suhjik finally spoke, already not liking what he was hearing.

"It needs a new tri-axle piece, a bigger one that'll fit better. Where can we get one?"

Suhjik flashed a look of frustration at the incapacitated hover, knowing that the small rattle was worse than the mechanic at the garage had claimed. A small part of him now wished he'd shot the hapless man before when he could. "I don't know, but either way it's not safe to go out now. We'll rest tonight, and tomorrow you can look for your axle, there's plenty of second hand shops that sell parts."

"Great," She groaned, mildly annoyed that she'd tinkered for hours on the craft only to have to wait until tomorrow to fix it completely. She tossed the multi-tool on the hover and played idly with the bun, wanting now more than anything to let her hair down. "I'm starved."

Yigohr nodded quickly, "That, I can help you with immediately, miss Petit. Go upstairs to the room and clean yourself off. Gorahm will have your food brought up by the time you're done."

Gorahm clenched his teeth behind his rebreather. He hated the idea of serving the Vektan her dinner, but knew better than to argue with Suhjik about it. He still couldn't bring himself to view the grizzled Helghast as any less than the Lieutenant he used to be.

Allison nodded and thanked Suhjik before excusing herself. Fortunately, she gave Gorahm a wide berth and exited silently as she pulled her disguise back on. Once the door had closed shut behind her, Gorahm turned to face Suhjik.

"So, when did **this **happen?," Gorahm muttered at Suhjik like a parent discovering the vase his child had shattered.

Suhjik shrugged, "They don't make them like they used to. No use crying over spilled milk."

"Spilled what?"

"It's.. It's an expression, you just worry about feeding yourself and Miss Allison right now."

Gorahm snorted and turned to leave, "Yeah, I'll feed her the heel of my boot."

Yigohr merely chuckled, knowing his nephew's words were merely to vent some of his annoyance. It was better to get it out now, rather than later, in her presence. "You're a riot, kid."

"I'm here all week."

* * *

Okay, this chapter was supposed to be a good amount longer, but I decided to take the last chunk and move it over to the next chapter, which will have more of da acshunz. I haven't been able to get much action in until I sorted out any confusion between Gor/Yig. Big thanks to GabuNoo and OhHenryBars for their reviews, which always help me keep writing haha. Keep the constructive criticism coming, I'll still be cooking things up :)


	9. Chapter 9

Suhjik woke up early. The sun barely peeked over the horizon, and no one stirred in the mining town's street. He liked the quiet.

He silently suited himself up, confident that neither Gorahm nor Allison would rouse for another few hours. They needed more sleep than he. He hastily scribbled a note and left it tacked on the door with a handful of miner's tickets.

_"Had to take care of some business. Use these tickets to buy the hover part. Will be back by noon."_

He carefully opened the door and stepped out, affording one last glance to his sleeping nephew before departing.

* * *

Allison filled her lungs with the stale Helghan air, as she was roused from her slumber by the sounds in the street. She groaned as an ache in her stomach throbbed to life, no doubt caused by the volatile meal she'd forced down last night. She wasn't surprised. Sweet, soft, safe, comfortable, delicious and warm were words that had no meaning on the inhospitable world.

"One thing at a time," She mouthed, barely a whisper. With some pain in her belly, she sat herself up and took in her surroundings. The older one, Yigohr, was nowhere to be seen, but Gorahm still slumbered, almost peacefully in his cot. His side rose and fell rhythmically; his face hidden as it pressed into his pillow and arm.

"He's a lot more tolerable when he's asleep," she thought to herself, rising to her feet delicately, not wanting to wake him and deal with his attitude. She tensed each time her feet made the floorboards creak, but sighed in relief when he didn't appear to stir. For all she knew he would mistake her subtlety as an attempt to flee, or some other story he could cook up due to his distrust.

It mattered less and less the further she crept from him. In the far corner, a bucket of water sat, with a coarse rag floating lifelessly in its depths. She lowered herself onto her knees and fished the bit of cloth out, wringing it briefly and rubbing her face and neck with it. It was surprisingly cool, and helped her wake up more from the uncomfortable night.

"Still doesn't hold a candle to a tall cup of coffee and a cigarette," She sighed. She would kill for either one right now.

After a few moments she dropped the cloth back into the bucket, letting it sink and settle on the bottom. She stared into the bucket, its undisturbed surface mirroring her tired face. Her hair was a mess, and the color had yet to come to her cheeks and lips. She had woken up on the wrong side of the bed… In the wrong place, on the wrong planet, with the wrong people. It all felt like a bad dream. One she couldn't wake up from.

"Wake up," She whispered into the bucket, knowing it was stupid, but unable to help herself. She felt like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, where she could simply tap her heels together and be whisked home.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up." She murmured, louder each time.

"Fuck, alright." The Helghast growled, his words muffled by the pillow, causing Allison to look back at him in surprise. He pushed himself up from his cot, his eyes half-lidded and dreary. ".. Have to wake me up… Pain in the ass…"

Gorahm's words were muttered and incoherent as he rubbed his eyes and stretched. Allison chewed on her bottom lip to stop herself from explaining her true motives. It was better in her mind to let it slide, but she could tell they were already off to another bad start.

The young Vikar yawned soundlessly, his mind like a computer that needed to warm up first before it could operate efficiently. A few soundless moments later and his gaze shot up, glancing around sharply.

"Where's Suhjik?" He asked, yet his tone towards the Vektan made it sound like an interrogation.

"I don't know," Allison murmured, reaching back into the bucket and retrieving the rag. Wringing it out tightly, she offered it to Gorahm, who snatched it from her hand. "He was gone before I woke up... But I think he left you a note."

"Hnn," The Helghast grunted, rubbing his face, scalp and neck with the old rag. He finally tossed the rag to the side, pulling and lacing his boots up. He walked over to the door and pulled the note off, reading it briefly. He then crumpled it up and took the tickets. Gorahm didn't like how mysterious Suhjik was acting as of late, but he would give him the benefit of the doubt.

"So.. Gorahm, is it? I was hoping you'd know what the plan is today. I still need to pick up that tri-axle piece, and I don't know where we're going, and we've only got so much time in the day. If we don't-"

She quieted as he raised his hand, "You're talking too much. I know where to go, and Suhjik left us with some currency. We'll leave and get your part as soon as I'm geared up, alright?"

Allison nodded, figuring she'd need some time to get dressed as well. "Thank you."

"Yeah, sure. You want food?"

"Oh… No, thank you, I'm still full from last night," She lied, offering a smile. Secretly, she didn't think her bowels would survive another helping of Helghan cuisine.

"Suit yourself," He murmured, turning his attention to suiting up.

* * *

Gorahm's optics cast the busy street in a red haze. He made a quick mental list in his head that he had everything he needed. His Sta-18 and M3 sat in his holster and belt respectively. His S3k-fury combat knife strapped to his chest, concealed beneath the outer wrap of his miner suit. He reached up and unsheathed it, taking a few skillful swings with the savage blade before sliding it back into place.

"Are you going to hack someone up?"

Gorahm grimaced, turning around to peer at Allison. Like him, her face was concealed behind a rebreather, similar to his.

"Only if you lose the tickets, Vektan," Gorahm muttered.

"It's Allison, and no, I have your precious tickets," She muttered, irritated already. She hated when he referred to her as 'Vektan' when he knew her name.

"Good, don't lose them," He snapped, looking both ways before walking. "Keep up and don't talk to anyone."

"Yes, Mother," She said, under her breath.

The pair walked briskly down the street, with Gorahm having to stop several times to decipher if they were headed the right way, much to Allison's chagrin.

She didn't like what was around her. The general squalor and desperation was not something she was used to, and it only made her stick closer to her pushy guide. The homeless and dying littered the streets, not bothering to beg for food or money as it was apparent they would receive nothing. Several others were subject to beatings, by gangs or military patrols, all of which Gorahm would grab her and steer her away to give them a wide berth.

She huffed indignantly as she felt his hand grip her shoulder to, once again steer her away from a brawl that had erupted in the street. "Stop yanking me around like I'm a fucking dog." She snapped, jerking her shoulder from his grip sharply.

"For your information, Vektan, I'm 'trying' to keep us out of trouble, which you're complicating every time you stop to gawk."

"Oh, so I'm gawking now, am I?" She fumed, loud enough to turn some heads in their direction. "Maybe you should focus less on pushing me around and more on figuring out where the hell we're going!"

Gorahm grabbed her angrily, yanking her closer. He wanted to strike her, but such actions would only do more to attract attention. "Will you keep your voice down, for fuck's sake?" He seethed. Whatever his tone lacked in volume, he more than made up for in anger.

She merely glared back at him from behind her rebreather. Gorahm did not need to see her face to tell she was also infuriated. With everyone always behind a mask, one had to learn to read body language to discern what couldn't be seen on one's face.

"Fine," She responded after a few moments. He softened his grip as she tore away from it once again. "Lead the way, you won't hear a peep from me."

"Good," He spat, ignoring the few strangers who peered at them curiously. He looked down each end of the street, attempting to regain his bearings.

_How the hell is anyone supposed to navigate in this place?_

"Okay..," He blinked, recalling several features around him he recognized. "..This way."

Rounding a corner, Gorahm felt his anger and frustration soothe over. Trade caravans lined the sides of the streets, with some set up in the center. He glanced back at Allison, waving a hand down the crowded, bustling road.

"We're here. Go look for your hover part."

Allison said nothing, slipping past him and wading carefully through the crowd. Gorahm followed after her closely, his ears overwhelmed by the merchants' chatter.

"I have rare delicacies, from every corner of Helghan! They can extend your life, fight lungburn, and all quite affordable!" One announced, several small creatures splayed out to catch the eye. In his whole life, Gorahm had never come across animals like that.

"I have boots, clothes, anything you might need! Very cheap!" Another yelled, louder.

Gorahm followed Allison closely, a claustrophobic feeling snaking into his body the deeper he followed her through the dense crowd. It was almost chaotic; the white noise of innumerable voices all talking over each other, as droves of hidden faces pushed and rubbed past his person. His hand rested tensely on his sidearm, unable to fight the discomfort of his proximity to these strangers. He tensed suddenly, fighting his instinct to lash out at Allison as he felt her pull upon his arm.

"Gorahm..," She addressed him, her gaze glued ahead of her. She contrasted his discomfort, appearing relaxed and casual as they stood in the middle of the bustling street. "What do these signs say?"

The young Vikar blinked, following her pointing finger to a series of shanties with signs. "You can't read Helghan?"

She let out an irritated sigh, "No, I can't. Will you just tell me what they say already?"

Gorahm rolled his eyes behind his rebreather. Despite the Helghast using an almost identical language to the Vektans, Scolar Visari himself had authored a new alphabet after beginning his reign. He decided his people needed a culture as divergent as their appearance.

"That one says 'General medical'… And the other says, uh, 'Jafir's spare parts'."

"Perfect," She responded, pushing through the crowd towards the store.

Gorahm followed in her wake, up to the makeshift door. As she opened it, she turned back to face Gorahm. "You stay outside. If I need something blown up, I'll come get you." She muttered, prodding a finger against his chest. She was obviously still miffed about their earlier squabbles.

Gorahm opened his mouth, about to deliver a sharp-tongued retort, but she had already disappeared into the store, the scrap metal door slamming shut behind her.

"Oh of course, your highness!" He yelled after her, his hands curling into fists, demanding that he find something or someone to slam them into.

"Stupid little bitch, fucking cunt," He growled, muttering a slew of other curse words, as he lowered himself down, resting his back against the spare parts store. Sliding his rebreather off, he searched his pockets for any redleaf to roll up. Something told him he'd need a few puffs of the dry herb to stop from barging through the door and doing things Suhjik would skin him for.

* * *

The one Allison assumed was called 'Jafir', sat behind the makeshift counter, his feet propped up on it. The walls of the large shanty were lined with parts, new and old, from gutted radios to dilapidated scrap metal. The moment she stepped in, he fixed her with an odd stare, his tired gaze dragging over her body closely.

"Well, pretty girl," He murmured, a grin on his face, "Anything I can help you find?"

She ignored the man's blatant advance, and offered a brief nod in his direction. "I'm looking for a tri-axle piece. You have any?"

"Oh, sure, I come across those every so often. Gimme a sec," He grunted as he stood up, his eyes flicking back to her every few moments. She crossed her arms, pretending not to pay the shopkeeper any attention.

"Here," He grumbled, setting several sizes and types of tri-axles on the counter. "These are all of 'em."

Allison sauntered up to where the pieces were set out and peered down at them. They were in sub-standard condition at best, but she finally settled on one, which was just the right size, if not a little worn for wear.

"I'll take this one," She said, business-like. "How much?"

The man's grin grew wider, as he placed the rest of the parts back behind his counter. He leaned closer to her. "How much you got?"

She was no newcomer to the underhanded policies of merchants. Some were honest, but most could care less who they screwed over, as long as they ended up with the best deal. She repeated herself, no fool to the merchant's attempts to overcharge her. "How much?"

The one called Jafir clenched his jaw tightly, "I asked you how much you got… If you want to take your business elsewhere, be my guest; no one else in this mining town sells hover parts."

Allison was silent behind her rebreather for a few moments, before sighing. "I have five tickets, okay?" It was a bluff, of course. In truth she had ten, but she could tell that whatever the amount she claimed to have, that's how much the tri-axle piece would 'happen' to cost.

"Well, my price is five, then."

"I'll give you three."

"Three?" He guffawed, waving a hand at her dismissively. "Why don't I just give it to you for free, while you're at it?"

"Four tickets, but no more." Allison wasn't about to fight tooth and nail over a few tickets with this man. Something about his invasive look gave her goose bumps, and she trusted her intuition enough to take it as a legitimate warning.

Jafir leaned further toward her, making her take a few steps back. "You don't seem like a local… Have we met?"

Now she was feeling uncomfortable. "No, I'm just passing through- Are you going to sell me the part or what?"

He raised both hands in defense, "Hey, I meant nothing by it… So, you're here alone then?"

"Here," She pulled five crumpled tickets from her pocket and tossed them on the counter. She needed to leave, and find Gorahm. As her hand curled around the tri-axle, Jafir's larger one snatched her hand up.

"What's the hurry?"

Her other hand immediately lashed out, striking up into Jafir's nose with her palm. She felt something crack in his nose, and he cried out in pain, his grip on her loosening enough for her to pull it away. She snatched up the part, but suddenly felt several other pairs of hands grab her from behind, with one arm locking around her neck and squelching her voice. She fought and squirmed, but she was outnumbered and overpowered.

"Bitch broke my fucking nose!" Jafir howled, twin trails of blood now dripping from his nostrils. "Tell Javok he owes me extra for this one!"

"You'll get paid depending on her condition, same as always, Jafir," A gravely voice laid down it's authority, causing the merchant to grow silent.

The last thing Allison could see was Jafir sliding his thumb across his throat at her, his nostrils ringed and wet with blood as her unseen assailants dragged her into a dark, back-corridor. All she could think to do was fight, despite it's futility.

* * *

"Hey friend, can I get a drag?" A scraggly passerby asked Gorahm, a finger pointing to the smoking redleaf stogie between his fingers.

"Fuck off," The young Vikar refused the man. He was the third one so far to ask him for a puff, and Gorahm was beginning to think it was the same man, in a different outfit each time. He smirked at the absurdity of the thought.

"Asshole," He growled, saying nothing else and moving on.

Gorahm didn't like waiting, and each passing moment only made him more frustrated.

_It's just one little hover part. How long does it take to get one of those?_

"Screw this," He concluded, sucking on the roach before stomping it out beneath his boot. He didn't care if she told him to wait outside; his patience was past the point of waning.

He sat up and pushed his way through the door, his optics quickly adapting to the darkness of the shop. Strangely, it was empty.

"Fucking… Damnit..," A shaky voice whispered from behind the counter.

The young soldier walked up and rapped his knuckles against the counter, "You alright?"

"Don't- don't worry about me, friend, I'm just a-a clumsy oaf sometimes," He grumbled, offering a disarming grin to the young Helghast. "What can I help you with?"

"My… friend came in here to purchase a tri-axle piece."

"_Shit, shit. I thought she came alone…"_ Jafir's voice blared in his mind, but his face remained friendly and helpful to mask his treachery. _"I need to stall until Sherk and his boys get back from delivering the girl."_

Jafir rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "She came in, but looked quite sick.. She asked to use my toilet – looked like she was goin' to puke her stomach out."

Gorahm nodded, his red optics glaring at the merchant, cold and emotionless. "Oh, I'll go check on her."

"Ho, wait up there, friend. That's my personal toilet back there. I wouldn't have even let her in the backroom if she didn't look like she was going to lose her lunch on my floor; much less… An armed fellow like yourself."

The young Helghast tilted his head at the shopkeeper, his arms crossing. "Fine."

Jafir needed to change the subject. "Hey, those are some nice boots. Steel toed, very fancy for these parts. I can give you a nice price for 'em."

"I'll pass, thanks." He replied curtly, leaning to look around the merchant and into his backroom. He was getting suspicious, but it wasn't a big change to how he'd been feeling ever since he'd arrived in the town.

"Were you a soldier?"

Gorahm tensed, his calm voice belying the swimming suspicion in his gut. "What makes you say that?"

He grinned, raising his hands in a non-hostile manner. "I saw the M3 revolver in your belt. That's a Vektan weapon. Only two ways you could have gotten that – Either you were fighting them, or you bought it."

"I stole it," Gorahm claimed. Technically it was the truth.

Jafir chuckled, approaching the counter slowly. One hand slowly began to reach for the shotgun he kept behind it. "Ah. How could I forget about the third option? I'm assuming you're not selling that either." His fingers brushed its handle gently, his face remaining friendly even as he planned to kill the stranger. Sherk was taking too long; he needed to tie this loose end himself.

"No, I'm not." The young Helghast rebuffed the man. That was it, he was tired of waiting. "Where is she?"

"I told you, in the back," Jafir breathed, his fingers curling around the grip. He placed one finger on the trigger. "I, uh, She's probably only goin' to be a few minutes more."

The breath caught in Jafir's throat, as the familiar sound of a gun cocking entered his ears.

"Hold it," Gorahm's mechanical voice growled, now pointing a StA-18 in the man's face. "I know it's there. Place it on the counter, slowly."

Jafir peered at the young man, letting out a chuckle. He carefully raised his shotgun and slid it across the counter. "He-he...How'd you know?"

"I didn't trust you, that's all," Gorahm picked up the merchant's firearm, holstering his pistol. "Where. Is. She?"

Jafir's easy smile slowly turned into a scowl. "You think you're the first punk to point a gun at me? I don't sell out the people who keep my pockets full."

Gorahm quickly vaulted over the counter, throwing his weight into the merchant and knocking him down. He cocked the shotgun and pressed it in between the merchant's legs. "What if I make you into a eunuch! Do you think the people who line your pockets will buy you a new pair of balls?"

"Woah, woah!" Jafir cried, his chest now heaving at the weight of the barrel pressing into the sensitive area. "Okay! I'll tell you, just- just point that thing away from me!"

Gorahm snarled, bringing a heavy boot up and smashing it down on his chest, painfully knocking the air from him. He pressed the barrel of the shotgun further into the man's crotch. "If you're next words aren't information, I'm painting the floor with your future offspring!"

Jafir's eyes widened, as he fought to suck in air. "It's Javok, okay!"

"Who's he?"

"He runs the gang in this sector, as well as the organ harvesting trade! Someone comes in, and I signal Javok's men to grab them! He pays me, and, well, that's all there is to it! Please, that's all I know!"

Gorahm scowled as the man's eyes began to water up. It made him uncomfortable, and when he was uncomfortable, he became angry. "You signal them to get in here! Right now!"

* * *

Sherk and two of his subordinates crept silently down the corridor to Jafir's shop. They'd received the radio signal that another healthy target had arrived, and he was more than happy to collect it. Javok would be satisfied, and it would trickle down, making it another lucrative evening.

He stalked behind the other two as they pushed the door open. Jafir stood behind his counter as always, supposedly keeping the attention of the geared up man who's back was facing them. A perfect opportunity.

Suddenly, Jafir dropped behind the counter, as the masked man spun on his heel to face his aggressors. He brandished a shotgun, which the first henchman realized too late as he sprung at him and received a chest full of hot lead. It tore through him, sending his body reeling back and into the far wall.

Gorahm pumped the weapon, ejecting the spent shell before pointing the smoking barrel at the two remaining men. "Don't fucking move! Which of you fuck's is in charge?"

A few tense moments and Sherk cleared his throat. "I am."

The young Vikar aimed his weapon at the other henchman and pulled the trigger, leaving both of the Helghans in a pool of their own fluids. He pumped the shotgun again, and approached Sherk. "Turn around."

Sherk complied, feeling the hot barrel of the weapon press into his lower back, as a hand patted him down, relieving him of the pistol that sat in his belt. He then felt the hand on his shoulder, and it pushed him back down the corridor.

"So, this is your operation?" Gorahm murmured slowly, his voice low. "Preying on people who come into the shop? Pathetic."

"We're only filling a service…Officers, officials, people of importance want to extend their life from lungburn. We get them a fresh set of lungs; they don't care if we have to snatch a few people off the street to get it. We're all nobodies to them."

"Well, you picked the wrong nobody this time," He muttered into Sherk's ear, as they neared the end of the corridor. Gorahm could hear voices from the other end, and kept a tight hold on the Helghan's shoulder.

Just as they entered the new room, Gorahm shoved the man forward with all his strength, sending him through the door violently. He followed behind him, his shotgun at the ready. Two men who were drinking at a table stood up sharply as Sherk crashed heavily to the floor.

"Don't move, or I'll blow your fucking brains out!" Gorahm barked loudly from behind his rebreather, sweeping his weapon from left to right, before aiming it at the group of men. He didn't need to make many verbal threats. Pointing a weapon was more than enough to abate the men from defying him.

"Where is she?" He demanded to know. The two men looked at one another, before staring back at him with questioning looks.

"The girl! The one you fucks just grabbed!" He snarled, attempting to look on edge and impatient to rattle the men.

The two remained silent, as the third began to pick himself up off the floor. Gorahm interrupted him, striking the back of his head with the butt of his weapon. He then pressed the barrel into his back, and squeezed the trigger. The metal spray tore through the man's flesh just as easy as it would through paper, leaving a gaping hole that severed his spine. Gorahm had no qualms with killing the man, especially if it loosened the lips of the other two.

Sherk coughed a mouthful of blood, before finally wilting into stillness, his tired eyes open in a look of shock and horror. He was just one of many who never expected to die on a day that seemed like any other.

Gorahm pointed the weapon at the other two, pleased that they now recoiled at his actions. They knew now that he wasn't playing games. "First one to talk lives."

The pair peered at him, then at each other in disbelief, unsure if what he was saying was true. The young Vikar simply continued to glare at them, knowing their nature to survive would get the best of them. After all, they were only human.

"She's down there," One of them blurted out suddenly, pointing to a door on the floor, under the table. "They all are!"

Gorahm tilted his head.

_All of them?_

"You son of a bi-" The other Helghast snarled to his partner, before his words were cut short at the blast of the shotgun. Like the others, it tore through his chest, sending him reeling against the wall, and sinking to the floor in a ragged heap. His head lolled to one side, his last breath scraping out from his pallid lips.

Gorahm immediately pumped the shotgun again and sent a spray of lead into the remaining Helghan's head. Hot, metal shards sliced through his skull, sending pieces and brain matter against the wall. His body collapsed to the floor lifelessly, the bloody stump where his head used to be now leaked dark blood onto the dirty floor.

The young Vikar didn't care that he lied. There was no room for honesty here. He was going to find the Vektan, and it didn't matter how many bodies he would leave in his wake.

There were no more shells for the shotgun, so he tossed it aside. He un-holstered his StA-18, and kicked the table over sharply, the bottle and glasses shattering on the floor. Crouching down, he swung the door open, quickly pointing the sidearm into its depths.

He slowly lowered himself down into the darkness, sliding down the ladder soundlessly. He landed on concrete, pressing himself up against a wall and peering around calmly. His optics turned the relative darkness into a clear red scene before him. It appeared that the town, or at least the street had a series of catacombs and corridors, not unlike the ones he'd grown up in at the academy. They were dilapidated, and he could hear different sounds that echoed from distant parts of the passageways.

_This just gets stranger and stranger… How the fuck am I supposed to find her in here?_

He instinctively lowered himself down, hearing footsteps echo against the concrete floor. They were getting louder.

He holstered his pistol, and slid his combat knife from it's sheathe. It reminded him of when Sergeant Garl had sprung onto the ISA scout and silenced him quickly. Gorahm knew he could do the same. Patience was all it took.

The footsteps grew louder, as Gorahm pressed himself flat to a corner. He could hear them, growing louder and louder, and before he knew it, a guard strolled past him. Fortunately for the young Vikar, the man was smoking a redleaf cigarette and let his mask hang by its tubes. If he'd been wearing it, he may have had a chance of spotting Gorahm before he grabbed the man from behind and cleaved his blade hard into his throat.

The guard struggled momentarily, writhing under his strong grip, before going limp in his arms. He dragged him into a far corner and left him, relinquishing his StA-11 as well as the clips he was holding.

The StA-11 was a reliable submachine gun, used by shocktroopers for medium to close range firefights. It was ideal for the narrow corridors and passageways, especially in his trained hands. He held the weapon tight to his shoulder as he stalked swiftly through the passageways, searching each room calmly, but only finding disturbing sights.

One held shoes and boots, taken from victims. There was too many to count. In the next was simply masks and clothing. Judging by the number, hundreds must have met their ends in this dark, dilapidated dungeon.

A third merely held several naked corpses, most likely today's catch. Each had gaping holes in their chests, where there lungs were. Gorahm only stared long enough to discern that Allison was not among them and quickly moved on. Seeing the unfortunate victims only hastened his steps and boiled his blood.

"Cowardly, underhanded motherfuckers…" He growled to himself, his boots making little sound as he picked up his pace.

"Where'd you find this Vektan?"

_Where is that coming from?_

Gorahm listened, hearing more voices, before pinpoitning its direction. He spun on his heel and moved toward the sounds source, the voices growing louder and clearer as he neared the source.

"I told you Javok. Sherk and his boys passed her off to us from the outlet at Jafir's place. She was wearing a mask so they must not have known!"

"A Vektan in our town, of all places… This is either a curse or a blessing," Another voice responded, assumed to be Javok by Gorahm as he stalked to the doorway silently. He made sure to stay in the shadows, observing the rooms occupants.

Javok and another stood over a table, where a female was strapped down. Black tresses spilled over one end. Two other heavily armed guards flanked the far wall, each toting a StA-52 LAR.

_Allison…_

"We don't do business directly with the military, Javok, you made that rule!"

"I know what I said, Wetil! But this… this is a rare exception. We could fetch a big bounty for turning her over to the military. Big enough to buy our way out of this shit hole."

Gorahm had heard enough, and he didn't intend to take prisoners. He tagged where each of the men stood, and counted down from three in his head.

_Three… Two… One._

He snapped around the corner, spraying a burst of lead into the nearest man's head; Javok himself. In an instant, his aim was fixed on the second and he fired a few rounds into the man's chest before Javok hit the floor.

Gorahm dispatched the two guards on the far wall with a little less finesse, simply holding the trigger down and spraying them both for a few seconds. Their bodies were peppered with small rounds, more than enough to enough to drop them to the floor, dead. As tough as they all looked, and as big as their guns were, they were still street scum, and couldn't contend with a soldier's years of training, and conditioning.

He ran up to where Allison lay. She was unconscious, her body strapped to the table. Next to her lay a compliment of surgeon's tools and anesthetics. Gorahm assumed she was about to be cut open, before they discovered her secret.

"Wake up!" He yelled, shaking her roughly. He had no time to lose, as any of Javok's subordinates would come running at the gunshots that had rung out through the catacombs.

"Hnn. Wha'?.." She groaned, slowly coming back to the world of the waking.

"Good enough," Gorahm thought. He yanked the straps loose that held her down, and pulled her up onto her feet.

"Can you walk?"

"I- Yeah, I think so," She murmured, swaying slightly, but keeping her balance. She peered around in a haze, as though having no memory of how she had gotten here. "Where the- Where the hell are we?"

"No time. Follow me, we need to leave…" Gorahm claimed. He could already hear voices yelling as heavy footsteps echoed in his direction. They were getting louder.

_Fucking perfect… So much for subtlety.

* * *

_

Cliffhanger, sorry guys xD. I was a little disappointed in this chapter, but I had to write it all from someone else's computer. More up later, and big thanks to GabuNoo and JonasGrant for the reviews! REVIEWS WELCOME 3_  
_


	10. Chapter 10

_Two hours earlier_

Eiml unlocked another door, with Yigohr at his back, calmly observing his surroundings. The feeling of being watched nagged him constantly ever since setting foot in the old mining town. Normally he would blame it on his own paranoia, but he knew it was safer to view the world through a lens of paranoia and skepticism, especially in these times.

Eiml pushed the door opened and walked in amiably; approaching a rickety shelf next to his cot as Yigohr closed the door behind them and locked it.

"She's old, but reliable," The old Helghan claimed, pulling on old cloth off of a radio. Like most things in town, it was very well used, having gone through several owners before finding itself in the innkeeper's hands. "Mostly military propaganda stations, but I've rigged it to have a 'wider' broadcast."

"You mean resistance groups and factions," Yigohr guessed, to which Eiml nodded. "I thought they were all wiped out when Visari took power.."

"Most were, yes..," Eiml muttered, his aged eyes taking a remorseful look to them. He was very young when he witnessed the first wave of Visari's political-dissenter mass killings. And when all the dissenter's seemed to be gone, he targeted anyone who's view diverged from his own, until the entire populace followed under his banner. "But pockets still remain, with some followers who want to wrench the planet from his control - I'm not saying they're a good bunch, it's all backroom politics and power-grabbing, but if news of the Emperor and his dog, Radec's death were to spread, there would be chaos."

"That's what I'm hoping for."

Eiml's eyes widened slightly, but he stepped aside as Yigohr began to calibrate the radio.

"Y-Yigohr, are you serious?," Eiml sputtered, assuming the ex-colonel wanted to make contact with the resistance groups when he asked to get his hands on a radio.

Yigohr responded calmly, but kept his attention focused on the radio's different switches and knobs. "Visari was a king - He held the entire planet together, under an iron fist. Do you think they're going to want anyone to believe he's dead? No, of course not, so we're going to instigate this chaos.."

"But it's only strong enough to reach the surrounding towns, and then some. Do you think it will spread?"

"Like wildfire. The only problem is, there's no way to stop the military from picking up the signal as well, so within a few hours they'd be able to find it's source, from this town. I recommend barring yourself into this room and letting the signal run on loop for an hour or so. Destroy it after; I imagine they'll shoot anyone who's got a radio after this."

Eiml sighed, sitting down on his cot, defeated and feeling older than ever. "I've got enough food to last me a few nights.. But I supposed this is all for the best… You blow in for a couple days and are starting planet-wide rebellions, why in all that's practical you couldn't just have had a few drinks with me?"

Yigohr chuckled, smirking beneath his mask. "You know me, I like to invite everyone if we're going to have a good time."

"My ass.." The old Helghan muttered as the ex-officer finished configuring his channel, so it would reach anyone but military channels.

"Okay," Yigohr muttered, clearing his throat for his first big speech. Part of him wished he had the incredible orating talent of the late Scolar, but he would have to do with his own brand of speech.

* * *

"There's the ladder, go! Hurry!" Gorahm yelled, briefly pointing to the ladder in the dimly lit hallway. He wasn't sure if Allison would have spotted in her un-aided vision against the dark, shadowy labyrinth.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he dropped to one knee, pressing the submachine gun to his shoulder. A trio of armed Helghans rounded the corner and were caught in Gorahm's well-timed ambush. Scorching rounds sailed down the hall, peppering the first two, while the third skidded to a halt and lunged back behind cover.

The young soldier squeezed off a few more bursts of lead into the concrete corner, chipping and ricocheting off of it wildly. He hoped it was intimidating enough to give him enough time to scramble up the ladder.

Without a second glance, Gorahm ran for the ladder and jumped up, catching the third step, and quickly ascending it. He breathed a sigh of relief as the silhouette of Allison's head appeared from the square portal of light at the top. He hated how long it felt, just rung after rung of this ladder, hoping to escape the catacomb of death.

"Come on!" She cried, panic and fear in her voice, but she remained at the top, waiting.

Gorahm reached the opening, and not a second too late. Footsteps echoed beneath him, and the familiar cocking sound of a rifle. He was so close, yet it felt like red-hot bullets would come careening up towards him at any moment. His shoulders passed the top and Allison's slender hands grabbed him tightly, and she wrenched back with all of her weight as he kicked forward out of the hole with his legs. He landed on top of her, and instinctively covered her with his body as a fierce response of gunfire projected forth from out of the hole on the same moment.

Within a few seconds, the gunfire ceased, and Gorahm quickly slid from Allison and peered down into the man-hole. The Vektan could have sworn she'd heard a 'thanks' from the young soldier, but her ears had been ringing from the constant gunfire and the danger had put her on edge, so she wasn't certain.

Gorahm released the spent clip from his weapon and inserted his last full clip. He would have loved to have a grenade or two on hand but he would work with what he had. He curled his arm around the manhole and fired wildly down into it. The barrel of the submachine gun was red and smoking by the time the clip emptied, and Gorahm simply chucked it down the hole, hoping it would club one of their unsuspecting pursuers.

He grabbed the door to the manhole and slammed it, before pulling Allison to her feet. "This way." He breathed, running quickly down the corridor and bursting through the second door, back into Jafir's shop. The shopkeeper was nowhere to be seen. Gorahm assumed he'd gone and hidden somewhere, or simply jumped ship altogether. Either way, it mattered little.

"Ah! Perfect!" Allison approached the front desk and plucked up the tri-axle piece she'd attempted to buy before. "Ugh, I'm beginning to remember when that asshole tricked me… Where did he run off to?"

"No time, we have to keep moving." Gorahm replied curtly, pushing the door open. He was shocked to see the streets filled with angry protest and chaos. Mobs of miners, toting anything from banners, to mining tools, to automatic weapons rallied and cried in angry revolt. This made things much more complicated, and yet an old Helghan proverb popped in his head.

_Every crisis hides an opportunity, just as every opportunity hides crisis._

"Here, cover your head," Gorahm murmured unwinding his cloth wrap and handing it to Allison. "We're going to hide in the crowd."

"You mean the hateful looking mob with the guns?" Allison might have well been asking if he was out of his mind.

"Trust me. You'll be fine, I'll be right with you." His voice was clear and confident, despite a youthful timbre at the very end. Of course, he didn't feel as confident as he sounded, but it was the only chance they had. Allison glanced back down the corridor, the sound of the trapdoor swinging open echoed back to them.

"Alright." She sighed, pulling the wrap tighter over her face. The last thing either of them wanted was for her true identity to be exposed. Gorahm nodded and quickly snatched up her hand. He bolted through the door, and into the surrounding chaos. The entire community seemed split in their own goals. Some were seeking cover and safety from any possible violence, while others sought to steal and vandalize.

The pair quickly caught up with the marching mob, and Gorahm slowly pushed his way into their ranks, fortunate that most were simply caught up in there own business to care.

The young Vikar peered over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of several ragged-looking Helghans storm out from Jafir's shop. Their heads swiveled in either directions before they split off into smaller search groups. He snapped his eyes back ahead and kept walking, casually pulling Allison deeper into the mob with him.

"They don't see us," He whispered into her ear, just enough to hear him in the surrounding noise. "Just blend in with the crowd."

"What crowd are we blending in with exactly?" She whispered back sharply, before sighing. "I mean, an hour or two ago everything seemed normal."

"I don't know, but one step at a time… Just keep walking, and we'll ditch when the time is right."

"Okay." She murmured, but gripped his hand tighter, unsure of the crowd and it's intentions. Gorahm hesitated but instinctively squeezed her hand back briefly, to give her some comfort. He forced himself to walk taller, and more aggressive, as though he belonged in the mob, and was one of them. He played with the thought of attempting to learn of the mob's intent without making it obvious that he didn't know, but it was simply too risky, and he continued walking.

After a few minutes the pair slowed down and finally let the crowd continue on ahead. Gorahm sighed, peering around slowly. Some of what he saw was familiar, but everything felt in more disarray than normal. He had no clue what was going on. He needed to get back to the inn, and tell Suhjik everything that had happened.

"Which way, which way…" He murmured to himself, attempting to work out in his mind where the mob had led them, and where to go to get back to the inn. "I'm retracing my steps. Follow."

Gorahm walked calmly along, his eyes sharp for any threats, but also to recognize any areas or streets he knew, while Allison remained close, keeping her eyes to the ground when they passed anyone, as they'd be a sure way to tell she was not a Helghast.

"This place I remember," The young Vikar swore, stopping suddenly. The Vektan nearly walked into him, but caught herself just before.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. At least, this street looks much more familiar than the others - See? There's imprints of trading caravans in the sand. They're fresh."

"So, they left when 'whatever it is that's happening now' began?"

"I would think so, but I can't assume it's true. C'mon."

Allison rolled her eyes, but followed the Helghast closely. She didn't know what to expect on the veritable hell-hole. Whatever semblance of order that held sway on these people before, was now gone, and it only deemed the dusty town more dangerous in her mind. Each street and shanty was a mystery. Some were deserted, others had fires and lootings, and gunshots rung out in the distance at random. Yet they passed by wordlessly, Gorahm tugging on her arm, or leading her away immediately. Unsurprisingly, she was not adverse to his pushiness this time.

"Thanks, by the way." She spoke, as they walked casually down the dusty streets. "For finding me down there."

Gorahm's optics remained ahead, blaring and emotionless, but beneath he felt the slight tingle of embarrassment. Going back to when she hated him suddenly seemed like a more comfortable environment.

You… are welcome. Yes." He responded slowly, sounding out each word.

"You don't talk much." the Vektan replied.

"What is there to say?"

Allison considered his somewhat blunt response, but decided to press on. "Well, I would think the last few days haven't exactly been easy or expected… For either of us."

"I'm inclined to agree. What's your point?" He spoke sharply, peering into each shadow and alley as though they might conceal some ambush.

Allison sighed again, "Er, nothing really. Just saying 'thanks' again, and you can talk to me, if you want. About what's on your mind."

The Helghan nodded curtly, "Noted, but we're not friends, or any other title you Vektans describe it as. You may not be my enemy right now, but that won't make you my friend or anything."

"God, are you always so stubborn? I **am** on your side, so you don't have to ignore me." She claimed sharply but was too tired to begin another argument with Gorahm in public. She simply wanted to return to the hostel, which felt like the safest place to her right now.

Gorahm stalked up to the end of the street and peered around the corner. The inn still stood, and the street seemed deserted. He exhaled a sigh of relief, but finding Suhjik was his next concern.

He snatched Allison's wrist and ran down the street, pushing through the inn's entrance with his shoulder, and staggering to a halt.

"I didn't think you two would take so long to get a simple piece," Suhjik's voice sounded out in the relative darkness. He walked up to them, a shotgun held loosely in his offhand.

"We ran into trouble, and there's people in the streets with guns," Gorahm spoke quickly, hoping his uncle could shed some light on the strange happenings.

"Yes, I know. I've been up to some things while you've been out," He murmured, idly checking the pressure on his rebreather. "But first things first; Miss Petit?"

"Yes?" She asked, carefully unwrapping her head in the safety of the empty inn.

"How long will it take you to get the hover operational?"

"I need to attach the tri-axle piece, and calibrate it to run smoothly, not to mention attach all the working parts that I had to take off to get to the petrusite core… And the, uh, subsystems need to be reset.. So, I'd say three hours.."

"You have two, this entire town will be swimming with soldiers soon."

Allison chewed her bottom lip briefly, then nodded. "Alright, I'll get started then." She gently handed Gorahm his head wrap back and quickly excused herself. She retreated into the back room where the hover was still laying dormant, so she could work in peace.

Suhjik watched her leave, and as soon as she was out of earshot, he turned his gaze back to Gorahm. "Follow me upstairs. We're going to need to set up a watch."

Gorahm nodded obediently and followed his superior as he climbed the stairs.

"Gorahm, I'm curious. What took you two so long? If you wanted some alone time with the Vektan, I would think you'd come back here first." He chuckled as the young soldier stiffened in defense.

"No, nothing like that! You're a sick, old man, you know that?" He growled out defiantly to the old hound, who merely shrugged.

"I was just curious. You seem to be getting along better with her, I mean, you're not trying to kill each other. That's an improvement in my book… Were you both working out 'diplomatic relations' in a bathroom?"

Gorahm wished his rebreather was advanced enough to mute incoming sound, simply to relieve himself of Yigohr's lewd comments. "No, nothing like that happened… Why would you think 'that' is foremost in my mind?"

"It would be for me, if I was your age. At least don't play stupid, I've known about the Vektan magazine in your quarters." He peered over his shoulder briefly as he pushed the door open to their room; technically the only 'occupied' room as the inn was now completely abandoned. "That's two contraband violations, and a disloyalty charge."

Gorahm stood dumbfounded, completely caught off guard by what the old hound knew, and simply didn't tell him. "And you didn't report it?"

Yigohr made a curt 'pfft' sound through his mask. "You're not the first to do it, but if you were caught, I'd imagine you'd spend the next month in an intensive nationality training course to force out that behavior. It's not something you want to be in, so I turned a blind-eye. Simple."

"Well, thanks," Gorahm muttered as he followed Suhjik inside. He attempted to seem more annoyed with Suhjik, but his mentor really did watch out for him more than he knew. "I'm not exactly itching to talk about those things with you.."

Another shrug from Suhjik. "Fine, fine. We can discuss such things later, you big, frightened baby."

Gorahm rolled his eyes, yet couldn't stifle his laughter. "Good, now maybe you can fill me in on everything."

Suhjik proceeded to explain his plan, and the message he'd sent out much earlier, as well as the effects it would have.

"What? Why though?" Gorahm asked, his tone inflecting upwards. "Because of you, we're going to be swamped with soldiers soon.. Is this your idea of subtlety? Playing it close to chest?"

"Call it a diversion, son. Do you think the military's going to be looking closer for us while they deal with faction splitting and civil war? It was going to happen, I just skipped a few steps. I'm not saying things aren't going to get hairy, but I've made preparations: Barred the doors, and the windows are already boarded up and I set up a booby-trap or two - Which brings me to our best defense."

Suhjik sat down on a turned-over bucket and pulled up a long shape, concealed beneath a dirty cloth wrapping. He untied the string on the corners and slipped an unscathed VC-32 sniper rifle from it's protective wrap. "6.9 kg, 2x and 5x zoom, bolt action marksman's rifle. Able to make a coin-sized hole through a helmet from over two miles away with a lot of practice. Here, get a feel for it."

He passed the weapon into Gorahm's waiting hands, who seemed to fawn over the rugged elegance of the long-rifle, but held it with more than enough practice and skill. "Where'd you get this?"

"Eh, I was a Lieutenant Colonel. Let's say I requisitioned one for personal taste. I used to be the second best shot in my regiment in my glory years, y'know." Yigohr claimed quietly, recalling the simpler days in his memory.

Gorahm rolled his shoulders as he acclimated to the weapons weight and length. He pointed the barrel through the window and gazed behind the scope. The picture he saw was crystal clear, with smaller readouts giving him trajectory paths and distance. "That's incredible. You better hold onto this."

Suhjik snickered, taking the weapon. "Don't fret, I wasn't expecting you to be a master with this weapon before hand, that's why I brought this. Should be much less of a leap for you."

Yigohr cradled the VC-32 across his lap, and picked up a similar shape, concealed in cloth. He revealed it to be a StA14 rifle.

"Woah! How?" Gorahm grinned, accepting the rifle happily from the grizzled Suhjik. The StA14 was a very simple but effective weapon. It had been used by Helghan soldiers for more than fifty years, and often considered a great honor. With newer and more advanced weapons being produced, the rifle was nearly archaic, but no weapon could contend with it's long-range stopping power and accuracy, save the VC-32.

"Like, I said. I requisitioned it a while ago. I guess you're pleased?"

"I'm honored, really."

"Good," Yigohr nodded and peered through the boards. "Now answer me this. What should our strategy be, until we can leave? I want to know if you retained any of your training."

Gorahm crouched down and made a few quick observations. "Well, sir… We have good firepower, but only from a long distance away. And this place is no bird's nest, but we get a fairly good view of the streets from this window. I could find a better vantage point, though. We should hole up here, and keep our heads down. If it looks like we're going to be assaulted, open fire."

Suhjik nodded slowly as his nephew spoke. "Good thinking, but, they're not looking for a few punks. I'd imagine liquidation is what they're thinking. Let the soldiers and miners duke it out, and shoot the former if they get too close."

"Yes, sir."

"These soldiers are Helghast, Gorahm.." Yigohr spoke idly, checking the chamber of the sniper rifle calmly.

"I'm not going to let that get in my way, sir," Gorahm chimed in defensively. "But don't think I'll be looking for a fight with them."

The older Helghast nodded calmly, but said nothing more of it. "Take as much ammo as you can carry and find somewhere to dig in."

* * *

Allison worked diligently in the garage, the rusted multi-tool being her only friend to turn the junker back into a smooth-running hover. She sighed, on her back beneath the craft, a small flashlight held in her mouth as she grunted to calibrate the tri-axle with the surrounding parts. It would tear the engine apart if she left it un-tuned. She silently wished for her ISA engineering tool. With it, she'd have the hover running perfectly in just under an hour, but no. Here she was, in the dim light, on her back, trying to piece back all the parts to an alien craft with her hands and a multi-tool that looked old enough to have belonged to her grandfather.

"It could be worse," She thought to herself. "You're still breathing; after everything that's happened, you're still in the world of the living…"

* * *

_Allison Petit was awake several hours past her shift on the New Sun, working at her personal computer. A cigarette still smoldering in a makeshift ashtray, and a steaming cup of coffee sitting in front of her. She needed the caffeine to work through her off-shift; she was close to figuring out the properties of the Helghan mineral petrusite, and how it was utilized to power Pyrrhus' main defense grid. She knew she was close to some kind of breakthrough, because she couldn't sleep._

_"You're still awake?" A voice called out from her work station._

_Allison whipped her head around to see professor Evelyn Batton standing in her door._

_"Oh, miss Batton. I'm- I'm close to something, I can feel it. I just thought, well, I'd keep working. Then I could actually report something of use to your desk."_

_The renowned scientist shook her head, a wry smile playing across her face. "Don't worry, I know the feeling, even though you'll feel like shit tomorrow. See, this is why I wanted you on my research team. It takes a truly curious soul to take personal interest in all of this."_

_"It's all very personal, Ma'am. You must know it more than I do, you're the head scientist." Allison stated, turning to face her. "I'm just happy to be working under your division."_

_"Well, I won't be around forever; I'm just past the hump on my more adventurous streaks. I see a lot of myself in you. Lots of potential."_

_Her young protégé smiled warmly, always happy to receive praise from the widely revered intellectual._

_"I just hope you don't place to much faith in me, Ma'am, I still have a lot to learn."_

_Batton waved her hand in a glib manner. "Nonsense. Learning is all part of the job, and you've shown more capacity for it than most."_

_"Thank you, Ma'am."_

_"Evelyn is fine, really."_

_"Sorry, I've been hear for months and I still have trouble calling people by first name." She replied with a timid smile._

_Evelyn chuckled, and opened her mouth to respond, but she was cut-off by a large, muffled explosion and a heavy, jarring shake. She grabbed the doorframe to keep her balance, as Allison was nearly thrown from her seat. The steaming cup of coffee shattered on the floor._

_"What was that?" Allison breathed in shock. As if responding directly to her question, the ship wide PA system fired to life._

_"All personnel report to stations, this is not a drill." A calm, robotic voice chimed in, then repeated itself._

_Evelyn re-gained her balance and rushed to Allison, who was rising from her seat. "Are you alright?"_

_"Yeah, I'm okay."_

_"Go to the launch bay with the others." Evelyn spoke in a commanding tone as she began to exit._

_"Wait, where are you going?"_

_"Templar's going to need me on the bridge."_

_Allison shook her head. "Then I want to come with you, I can help."_

_"No." Evelyn snapped back, caring but firm. "Do as I say, this could be the counter-offensive we were warned about before."_

_Allison's legs were stiff as though fighting the urge to follow her orders. Another explosion sent them reeling._

_"Go! Now!" Evelyn demanded, turning and running for the bridge._

_Allison picked herself up quickly and sprinted in the other direction, as the previously calm and placid halls erupted into noise and activity._

_Squads of ISA soldiers ran to their posts, as well as engineers, medics, and every other division on the gargantuan ship. In times of crisis like these, everyone had a place they had to be, and unfortunately for her, her place was at the drop bay, to simply wait and find out if the ship would have to be abandoned._

_She didn't realize then that this time would be her last drill on the ISA flagship._

_Another loud explosion sounded off, but this one was followed with an orchestra. The main defense guns were finally responding to the surprise attack, but even then it didn't settle the fearful ache in the pit of her stomach. She hated waiting for what was to come, when each second of not knowing felt like it's own eternity.

* * *

_

Gorahm had made himself comfortable as he lay prone on the building's roof. The light was failing further into the mountainous horizon, but he truly believed it would work to their advantage.

Two metallic taps in rhythmic unison sounded off from beneath him. He knew this was Suhjik asking him what his status was, as they had no shortwave radio, and yelling to one another was never effective when you wanted the element of surprise. It was similar to the ancient Morse code, but much more crude and simplified for Helghan military jargon and orders.

He repeated the two taps back, telling Suhjk that there was nothing to report. Relative silence engulfed him once more. Gunfire echoed in the distance, all along the community, but it wasn't really his concern. He would merely wait and watch, and hope that whatever current mess he was in wouldn't be the one that finally killed him, or Yigohr for that matter. Gorahm even admitted to himself, in the solitude on the rickety roof that he hoped Allison would go on unscathed. As strong as his misgivings about her kind were, she had proven herself to be an important part of whatever grand plan Suhjik had been painting. As far as Gorahm could figure it, he being here was a flash of pure, dumb luck. He honestly couldn't even fathom the odds of how improbable it was to survive a falling airship, to meet his newfound uncle, and willingly join his plot in undermining an entire regime.

_A ruthless regime, mind you, but it was still your home._

He snorted slightly at the thought. "A home, maybe, but what life? Was I born and then they flipped a coin to decide whether I'd be killing or mining for the rest of my life on this harsh spit of land." He honestly now could not remember what life was like before a barracks. At one point or another it simply faded from his thoughts, like a place and time that had forgotten him, as opposed to vice versa. Conflicting memories were simply too much of a burden to carry. It was easier to let them go. They would cease to exist, and soon, so would he. Everything that came from the sand and wind would eventually be swept up in it and lost. Everything that was, is and will be eventually fades, right?

Gorahm slid his mask off and sighed, rubbing his temples. "Get out of your head," He repeated to himself several times. It made him uncomfortable at how easily fatalistic and defeated the world seemed through his mind's eye. As long as human nature remained, it would be mankind's Achilles Heel in the vast spectrum of the cosmos.

"Get out of your fucking head," He whined, defeated. He really wanted to smoke now. He groaned in annoyance, but his head shot up in surprise at an ominous hum from behind him. He rolled onto his back and peered into the distance. It was the sound of engines, but it wasn't clear enough.

He pulled his mask down, and the red haze of improved lighting showed what he'd feared.

"Shit." He mouthed out, and rapped his knuckles three times against the sheet metal roof; an alert.

Two taps sounded off in response: He wanted a status report.

Eight overlord dropships in attack formation, bearing south from Pyrrhus.

He pulled his knife out, and slowly began to tap out the needed information. It was all a system of timed taps and pauses; he just hoped his message would come through clearly. Many could now hear the ships engines, and spotlights along their underbellies began to light up and scan the earth.

Gorahm immediately turned on his stomach and remained still as the ships thundered overhead, shaking the metal plates on the roof and around him. They quickly passed him over without a care as they began to fly a perimeter around more populated sectors. They hovered over the mass of shanties like a school of hungry sharks, waiting for their prey to run, simply to chase them down. It occurred to Gorahm how much more daunting Overlords looked when they weren't on his side.

They were far out in the town's center, but he could still make out numerous black spots come zipping down black ropes. He counted in pairs as each shadowy figure slipped down from the Overlord.

He tapped out another message to Suhjik: Counting twenty-three marks on first payload. Confirm.

An immediate response sound from below double-checked and confirmed.

A second one began to drop it's troops as the guns along it's port side tore into the shanties below, creating a perimeter for the troops to re-group in.

"Counting twenty-six marks on second payload. Confirm." He inquired again to Suhjik.

"Negative. Counting twenty-eight."

"Confirmed."

Suddenly, several more of the Overlords' turrets lit up and peppered lead down into the streets. It was hard to tell what exactly was happening, but simply witnessing the destruction caused by the aircraft brought a bad taste to his dry mouth.

He brought the end of his knife back to the sheet metal and continued reporting: Twenty-five marks on third payload. Confirm?

"Confirmed… The rest are taking positions on main exits in town. Hold."

Gorahm made a sharp, confirmation tap with the end of his blade, and hunkered down further on the roof, peering through his sights at the chaos before him. Barely audible screams could be heard from the cacophony of gunfire that echoed across the town sporadically, but Gorahm could tell it wasn't coming from one side. The soldiers were meeting some resistance, which was fortunate.

The sound of a new message from Suhjik chimed in lightly: Two armed squads approaching. Hold until my fire. May pass.

Gorahm spotted them immediately and pressed himself lower to the roof, propping his rifle up to his shoulder and tracking their movements silently from his perch. Down the street, the heavily armed soldiers worked seamlessly, as they kicked down every door on the street and checked for anyone hiding. Some screams, then a spray of gunfire and they moved onto the next, machine-like in their cold, effective process. Gorahm was no stranger to it.

To the un-trained eye the faceless soldiers were indistinguishable, yet Gorahm had already picked out the biggest threat: The soldier furthest to the burning barrels. He was the squad leader, which meant his radio was the only one that linked to other forces in the area. If anyone had to die first, it was the one who could call for reinforcements.

As though he were reading his thoughts, the 'crack' of Suhjik's rifle popped into his ears, and the same soldier was thrown off his feet from the bullets force. Gorahm knew that was his cue, and took advantage of the soldiers' few moments of confusion. They didn't expect any miners to get the jump on them; they were the professionals after all.

Peering through the iron sights, he squeezed the trigger four times in quick succession, feeling the rustic weapons butt kick into his shoulder with each shot. The first tore through another Helghast's throat and he crumpled to the dirt, clutching his throat. The second caught his next target in the stomach, and he was dispatched by another round that was caught by his chest. The final shot was a near miss, as the remaining soldiers dove and rushed for cover, immediately returning fire on the pair.

Gorahm didn't flinch from his aim, as rounds pinged against the sheet metal around him. Another powerful 'crack' from the VC-32, and another soldier dropped lifelessly.

"Four down, four more." Gorahm whispered to himself, catching one of the more audacious soldiers in his crosshairs as he tried to advance from his cover in one of the shanties. One round tore into his target's leg, sending him sprawling to the ground. Tough as any Helghast warrior, he began to pick himself up. Unfortunately, another round from his rifle put the faceless grunt down for good.

He released the clip, and fished around in his pocket for a fresh one, making sure that his head wasn't sticking out of cover in the few, but frequent moments of vulnerability when a weapon needed to be reloaded.

Gorahm peered back down into the narrow street, and could pick out the signature red optics of Helghast against the darkened sky. Raging fires were the best natural light now.

One of the soldiers rose and began to fire down onto Gorahm's position, causing the young Helghast to retreat back into his cover. Another 'crack' from Suhjik's rifle and the firing stopped.

_Two left._

Gorahm kept his breathing under control as rounds pelted his position. He waited patiently for a break in fire. When the rounds stopped, he popped out from cover to return fire. To his surprise, one soldier was bolting back down the dirty street, while the other reloaded. Helghast soldiers never ran from a firefight, unless there was an ulterior motive.

_He's going to warn the others._

"Shit," Gorahm whispered, sucking in a deep breath and holding it as he peered down the ironsights. The running soldier was getting further with every second, yet the young Vikar tempered patience.

"There." He mouthed out, squeezing the trigger. The soldier fell next to a burning shanty, his flickering shadow the only part of him moving. Gorahm was about to turn his sights on the final soldier, yet he could see his foe already had a bead on him. He dipped back behind his cover, just as more rounds sailed overhead.

Another 'crack'. Gorahm hesitantly peaked over his cover, and saw the final soldier lying in a dusty, red pool.

He realized he was still holding his breath. He exhaled slowly, only to hear another order chime in from Suhjik: Report to me now.

Gorahm slowly rose to his feet and exited the roof. He entered Suhjik's room, giving a crisp salute. He wasn't sure if it was necessary but it was one of many habits drilled in to his cranium, and whether it would fade was a subject of doubt, not debate.

"Private Vikar reporting, Sir."

"Go check on Ms. Petit, and ask her when the hover will be operational."

"Yes, Sir."

"Anything longer than an hour and we'll be up shit creek."

Gorahm said nothing, and left to carry out his uncle's wishes. He bounded down the rickety stairs and through the back door. He had a weird feeling snaking up his spine; like the whole Helghast army would be waiting outside by the time he returned to his post.

He pushed his way into the backroom, immediately spotting Allison bent over the hover's exposed engine. She spun around the second she sensed him, yet Gorahm was the first to speak.

"How much longer will it take?"

"I'm not baking cupcakes here. It'll be done within the hour." She replied sharply, staring at him with slight annoyance. She wasn't used to working while a battle was being fought outside, and with the added pressure of a time limit. Gorahm blinked behind his mask. He almost asked her what cupcakes were, before catching himself.

"Good," He nodded and without another word, he left. His paranoia kept telling him that things would only get worse. He wanted to avoid everything going to shit this time. He really did.

"She said the hover will be ready within the hour," Gorahm reported to Suhjik, who's shoulders sagged. He cursed to himself and peered out the window once again, in a more disturbed state than when he left him minutes ago.

"Well, the bodies of those soldiers were picked for anything useful by passing miners… But I'm seeing a lot less movement in the distance by the military and the miners. It's too quiet."

Gorahm tilted his head, offering a casual glance out through the slats in the window, but seeing nothing too unusual. "What does that mean?"

"It's not what we know they're doing, it's what we don't know. If no ones shooting, what are they planning? What are they doing?" Suhjik muttered, more to himself. He brought his rifle to his shoulder and peered out through the scope of his weapon.

Gorahm felt another spike of paranoia. The muscles in his legs tensed sharply, willing him not to stand in one place. He held them firm and spoke to his superior.

"What are your orders, Sir?" Gorahm asked. Suhjik said nothing.

"Sir?" He inquired again after a few moments.

Suhjik sharply 'shh'd his nephew, never taking his eye from the scope of his weapon. He seemed to stare pensively in one area, and Gorahm almost considered asking him what he saw; yet Suhjik spoke first.

"Get down."

"Wha-"

"Get down!" Suhjik yelled leaping aside from the window and knocking them both to the floor. Gorahm had no time to realize what was happening before a heated explosion went off, nearly deafening him.

Suhjik was the first to his feet, followed shortly by Gorahm who could barely hear anything over the ringing in his ears. Debris and a heavy fog of dust clouded his vision.

"Grab your weapon soldier, and follow me!" Suhjik barked, easily slipping back into his warrior's role despite all the time behind a desk. It took only a second for the young Vikar to understand what his superior was saying before he snatched his rifle off the debris-strewn floor.

The pair burst through the door, and left, just as heavy lead rounds began to tear through the flimsy walls. They knew to simply keep moving, and find a better position to flank their foes.

"They've got a heavy, probably guarded by troops; I didn't have time to count them though."

Gorahm felt his stomach knot up again at the mention of the 'Heavy' unit, an extreme threat he never imagined he would have to fight. They were veritable giants, encased in thick armor, and wielding chain guns that could also launch rockets. Inside was a fanatical soldier, pumped up to the point of rage with propaganda and drugs.

He pitied any foe that had to square off against these literal human tanks.

"What do we do, Suhjik?" Gorahm asked as they climbed another set of stairs. Their heavy boot steps causing each step to creak and groan beneath them. He could hear another wave of gunfire that pelted the front of the hostel. He wondered if they knew the only resistance was two men.

"Stay close. I have one or two more surprises left."

Gorahm pondered what he could mean by that, but shook it out of his head. He had to keep himself down to the here and now.

Suhjik rounded a corner at the top of the stairs and stalked up to a small veranda that poked out from the furthest corner of the hostel. He dropped even lower, and Gorahm knew to mimic his actions as he followed his uncle out into the open darkness. From the perch he could see a side view of the street. As he'd expected the gunfire was coming from none other than the dreaded heavy. His weapon unleashed a never-ending barrage of irradiated lead death. The hostel looked so torn up, Gorahm thought it would collapse if subjected to this treatment much longer.

"Here," He heard Yigohr growl. The younger Heghast whipped his head around to see an ISA fragmentation grenade held in front of him.

Gorahm accepted it immediately. "What's the plan?"

"Wait for the 'boom', then I want you to draw their fire. If you can turn that heavy, I can get a clear shot at his tank."

Gorahm nodded obediently, more than willing to place himself in harm's way at the behest of his superior. "Yes, sir." He wondered where the 'boom' would come from, but he held his tongue.

"And be careful."

The younger tilted his head and chuckled, "Hey… It's me, c'mon." If he didn't have a rebreather covering his face, Gorahm would have given him a sly wink. He felt perfectly at home in the chaos, for what it meant.

As the two kept their heads low, the crackling gunfire died down enough to for several voices to yell to each other. At the call of their officer, a group of soldiers charged the entrance, which was surprisingly less marred than the rest of the building. The first soldier used his momentum and rammed his shoulder into the door full-force. Just as the door splintered open, the soldiers were engulfed in a fiery explosion that belched angrily from the entrance.

_I guess Yigohr rigged the door to blow… And I also guess that's the boom._

With his rifle slung across his back, Gorahm vaulted himself over the low wall, his legs outstretched to help absorb the initial impact of dropping two stories to the dusty ground. He landed in a roll and was immediately on his feet, his hand gripping a primed grenade. It's lazy beeping slowly began to speed up, telling him that it was close to detonation.

The explosion at the door had taken everyone's attention so much that they took no notice of the single Helghast. As his feet carried him to the nearest cover across the street, he tossed the chiming explosive in an underhanded motion towards the heavy. It bounced along the dirty street and exploded in a cloud of fiery shrapnel. Two soldiers who flanked the heavy were taken off guard by it and instantly killed by the charring explosion. The heavy on the other hand was merely thrown off his balance by it, as though he were shoved. He caught himself before falling and let out a sound of anger as opposed to pain. Gorahm kept running for an open window in a small shanty, already aware that the heavy had him in its sights.

The one-man behemoth growled in anger and hefted his gargantuan weapon back to a comfortable position, immediately letting the hot, lead death spill from its barrel. The young Vikar could almost feel the irradiated rounds as they barraged the dirt at his feet and the spaces he occupied less than a second ago; he could only keep running.

He aimed for the window of the abandoned shanty and prepared to dive through, only to discover a helmet and two crimson, blaring goggles begin to surface from the beneath the window. Gorahm only pushed himself harder and flung himself through the window at the armed soldier who was bringing his weapon to bear. He had no chance of survival if he stopped.

His hand reached the barrel of the assault rifle, and he forced it away from himself as it began to fire. The rest of his weight was thrown into his foe, who tumbled with him as gunfire now peppered the small shanty.

The two faceless warriors rolled to their feet. The soldier attempted to breathe with the air knocked out of him, and he reached out for his rifle. Gorahm lunged again at him, his knife held downward for the killing strike. Instead, he felt the soldier's boot lash out into his stomach, which nearly made him double over, yet he knew he couldn't relent. He couldn't allow him any time to grab his weapon. He landed his entire weight on the other man, pinning the weapon down against his chest, and drove the blade into the side of his neck, twisting it once for good measure and yanking it out.

_Sliced jugular and windpipe along with trauma. Blacks out in ten seconds, dead in another ten from blood loss._

He rolled off the dying, jerking soldier and pressed himself against what little protection the shanty offered. The hulking war machine outside had him trapped now. Suddenly the chain gun quieted. He could hear a few loud curses before the weapon was tossed aside. Its heavy footfalls grew louder as it drew closer to him. He un-slung his rifle and quickly checked the clip. He always felt comforted by having a weapon in his hands, no matter how useless it would prove to be against a heavy.

The 'crack' of Suhjik's rifle was truly music to Gorahm's ears. He hoped the round had struck the heavy's fuel tank. The behemoth stumbled forward, howling in pain and rage from the high-caliber round. It attempted to catch itself on the shanty that Gorahm was hidden in. The metal plates groaned and squealed under the weight applied to it.

Gorahm knew this was his only chance and he quickly scrambled back over the windows lip as the armored behemoth threatened to collapse the weak shelter. He would have slipped by unseen, but the heavy's helmet was designed to offer an extra wide view of his surroundings. He could see the small Helghast slipping away just behind him.

The heavy let out a fearless roar, turning on one large heel to face Gorahm who was hoping to make some distance between him and his foe. This day he would not be so fortunate. With surprising speed the back of the heavy's hand smacked the young Vikar with enough force to throw him against the shanty. He groaned, and attempted to suck in a breathe of air, but before he could a monstrous hand snatched him up by the throat.

"Gorahm!" He heard his uncle call out fervently. Another round from his sniper rifle hit the heavy, yet purposefully to miss the fuel tank. If the heavy exploded, his nephew would be caught in the blast for sure.

Vikar struggled to breathe, even as he kicked viciously at the heavy. His attacks were little more than annoyances to the walking tank. It now ignored Suhjik as several soldiers fired on his position, keeping him pinned down while the heavy played with the young Vikar. He was eye-level with the heavy, and held a few feet from the ground. His vision was beginning to blur even as he fought harder. His hand fumbled with his sidearm before he brought it to bear pointblank between the heavy's blaring red optics. He fervently squeezed the trigger, each small round pinging sharply off the heavy's domed helmet. A deep, guttural laugh entered Gorahm's ears as he weakly squeezed the final few rounds from the clip. They were little more than flies to the heavy.

He was choking now, he knew. That's all he could hear now, the sound of his constricted throat struggle and claw for a breath of air. His vision was fading and his legs had stopped kicking. They dangled and twitched beneath him like he'd been hung on a noose. He continued to fight simply because it was his nature, despite knowing its futility. He supposed it would make no difference now.

"_Look out!"_

"_On your lef-Agh!"_

A sudden, jarring shake knocked Gorahm back to reality. The deep voice of the heavy cried out in pain and his hand suddenly relaxed its vice-grip on his neck. Gorahm fell to the earth with a cough of pain. He attempted to breathe; attempted to stand and see what happened. His vision was slowly coming back, and before him the heavy was toppled over completely, now crushing the shanty beneath its form. It appeared to be knocked out cold.

"Get in!" Allison yelled at him from the driver's seat of the hover. The nose was slightly dented from the collision, and three more soldiers lay broken in the streets from her bold crash course to the heavy. She recoiled as several rounds pinged off of the hovers metal frame, and she yelled again for Gorahm to get in.

He obliged, picking up his rifle from the dirty ground and stepping into the front passenger's seat. He returned fire now on the remaining soldiers, picking one or two off but only the ones that appeared to be the biggest threat.

"Where's your friend?" Allison asked over the ringing shots and growling engine. Gorahm called out and pointed to the rafter where Suhjik had taken position. Allison pulled the lever hard and sent the hover into a tight turn, before finally stopping beneath the old hound.

He primed his remaining grenade and chucked it into the open street, causing the advancing soldiers to briefly relent. He then aimed his rifle at the collapsed heavy, which was now beginning to stir. Yigohr did not intend to let the heavy survive another day, especially after harming his nephew. He squeezed a round off, which struck the exposed fuel cells perfectly. Several de-pressurized cracks began to whistle from leaking fuel before erupting in a fiery explosion that consumed the heavy. Rightful vindication to the old hound. He slung the sniper rifle across his back and leapt down, landing with a grunt in the back seat amongst the supplies and weapons.

"Go!" He ordered.

Allison throttled the lever, and the hover charged forward smoothly. "Where do I go?" She cried out, unsure of the town's streets.

"Left here!" Suhjik ordered, snatching up his sidearm and joining Gorahm as they fired on any of the soldiers that showed their faces. Gorahm caught himself from firing on a group of fleeing miners, but squeezed the trigger at one grunt that rounded the corner, hopelessly attempting to catch up to the trio in the hover, and now dead like the others.

"Now right!" Suhjik barked. Allison swerved the hover in the cramped streets, keeping her head low from stray bullets. Gorahm propped his legs against the dashboard and sat up on the back of the seat. He could see two figures emerge from the tall shanty up ahead. He hazarded an educated guess.

"Rocket troops on our ten and eleven!" Gorahm called propping his rifle to his shoulder. He squeezed the trigger twice, letting them tear into the first Helghast. He collapsed, dead. Gorahm aimed for the second and squeezed the trigger.

_-click-_

"Shit!" He growled, knowing it was too late to reload. "Evasive maneuvers, Petit!" He yelled down to Allison, who obliged immediately. It caught Gorahm off-guard and he was nearly flung from the vehicle as she began to swerve and weave down the street sporadically.

The soldier's small form lit up briefly as a rocket propelled from his launcher. It whistled lightly as it raced towards them, and for only a moment Gorahm held his breath. The rocket barely missed them, whizzing just overhead and creating a hover-sized crater in the street just behind them. Suhjik fired several rounds at the soldier as they sped by, but the rocket trooper had already disappeared behind his cover.

"Can't this thing go faster?" Gorahm asked impatiently. He could smell freedom and it was very close.

"Faster? I fixed this piece of shit with half an hour to spare. You should be happy we're going this fast!" Allison fumed, but she couldn't be unhappy. The exit was just ahead. Yet it seemed that they had reinforced the checkpoint with more soldiers.

"What now?" Allison asked, her hand suspended over the speed lever.

"Keep going!" Suhjik yelled, reloading his sidearm with a fresh helical clip. "There's no stopping now."

Gorahm and Yigohr positioned themselves quickly and began burning through their rounds the moment they were close enough. Vice versa, the soldiers at the checkpoint fired back, with several rounds ricocheting off the windshield, leaving a web-work of interlacing cracks. He didn't know how much longer the front window would hold.

"Go, go, go!" Gorahm growled out. At the final moment, the blockade of soldiers dove and rolled to either side, barreling out of the way of the careening hover. They weren't stopping for anything.

Gorahm quickly slipped back down to sit normally as the hover collided into the closed gate. The metal gate tore off its hinges and flew over the hover like cardboard.

The young Vikar stared ahead into the vast expanse of desolate wasteland, then he stood up and peered back at the town, which was quickly shrinking into the distance. Its raging fires shrank, and soon only plumes of smoke hanging in the horizon were the only reminders that a town existed there at all.

_Not for long anyway. We escaped the liquidation at least. _

The young Vikar's breathing steadily calmed and he felt himself sink into his seat, feeling broken and tired.

"Apparently the young miss Petit has impeccable timing," Suhjik complimented her as he fished an info-stick from his pocket. He inserted it into the hover's computer and watched a scale map spring to life.

"My pleasure, Suhjik. I had to cut a few corners with the repairs, but she'll run fine. I promise." She replied, peering along with Suhjik as the information was seeded and displayed on the screen in front of them. "Are these the coordinates to the ISA evacuation zone?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Yigohr replied simply, settling himself down to sit. Today had done its toll on him. He could feel several fresh bruises rise across his frame, but the best painkiller was knowing that he was still alive. "Keep going to the coords 13.8 E, 44.2 W, its not far. I'll drive from there, and you can rest."

Allison bit her lip lightly, but nodded. She honestly believed that if anyone needed rest, it wasn't her. She peered over briefly at Gorahm who remained silent in his thoughts. One hand idly rubbed his neck, which felt stiff and painful. He leaned his head back against the seat and let himself go limp, attempting to fall into sleep as the vehicle sped smoothly over the blemished, burnt earth. They were now the instigators of civil war, and he didn't know if he was a revolutionary hero for that, or a traitor to his species.

_You're nothing. Nothing but tired. Sleep now, and face life another day...

* * *

_

Okay, so this chapter was a bit of a doozy due to complications and college, blahblahblah, anyway I hoped you all enjoyed it, and I really hope I get some feedback, because I've been wondering whether I should continue writing the story, or place it on hiatus until I've played KZ3 so I know to stay within the universe's canon. But hey, I didn't want to decide for myself, so write a review or send a PM with your own opinions, thoughts, etc and I'll consider whatever is most popular with the readers; just remember to give me your feedback._  
_


	11. Chapter 11

_There upon the wall were several Helghast. They stood, blindfolded and fearful, dirty rags hanging from the malnourished and bruised bodies. They weren't bound or restrained to where they stood, but he could almost smell the fear on them. They were beaten into fearless hopelessness. They appeared so fragile and brittle to Gorahm, who sat with his brothers, watching this new display. _

"_Do you see this?" A coarse voice growled out, as a man strode around and in front of the pups. Their eyes were wide and fixed upon the masked fellow who did not bother to return the stares. "These… Men," He said after a pause, debating whether they could even be called as such, "Are your enemies. They may look like you, and talk like you - But they are NOT loyal they are NOT obedient, they are NOT Helghast!"_

_The room was chilly, and Gorahm's thin limbs soon broke out in goose pimples. His slow breaths were evident in the air. _

"_There is zero room for weakness in the Helghast! Calling this planet our home is a testament to our durability, our strength; To not wither and die by our diaspora by those who stole Vekta from your father's fathers! Oh, no… Visari made us safe, Visari made us strong, Visari made us ONE!"_

_He un-holstered his sidearm, twirling it several times around his trigger-finger with a showman's skill, coaxing a small sense wonderment from the boys. "Now. These men before you - These wretched husks of Helghast ideals. They spit in the face of you and the Autarch through their dissent and unwillingness to adhere to the Helghast Triad."_

"_Duty, Obedience, Loyalty." The boys spoke in a loose chorus. These words and their meanings had been heavily drilled into every citizen and soldier._

"_That's right, boys, excellent! The duty for every able Helghast to work for a free Helghan! The obedience everyone must show to work and survive together. And the loyalty all Helghast must give to their government! We are NOTHING if we do not follow this creed."_

"_These men before you? They have forsaken the triad, they have forsaken their families, their honor, and least of all, their lives." His hand danced gingerly across the row of boys before he picked several, Winrik, Ledkir, and himself surprisingly among the few. Seven boys, seven dissenters. _

"_Take this, boy." He knelt down, placing the cool steel grip in the tiny hands of Ledkir, who used both to adequately hold the sidearm. "One shot, head or heart." He murmured into his ear before stepping back. _

_Gorahm could momentarily see a look of fear in Ledkir's eyes, but he did not hesitate with everyone's stare upon him. He squeezed the trigger, and one man fell lifelessly. The remaining 'criminals' grew rigid, yet did not run. They knew they were already dead men._

"_Here." The man snatched the smoking gun from Led's hands, pressing them into Winrik's. Winrick was a bit older and more physically developed than his brothers, and with one hand he aimed it at the next dissenter in line and squeezed the trigger without a shred of hesitation. This man crumpled down upon the other corpse. His display brought a subtle smirk to the towering man's face. Oh yes, Winrik was a fine specimen of the Helghast. His strength and utter loyalty would be an inspiration and example for his younger brothers. This young pup might go on to great things._

"_Now you, son." Gorahm heard as his finger curled around the gun pressed into his hands. He stared down at the scuffed, worn weapon, then up at his target. The sights shook in his grasp, but he would not miss from so close. _

_Bang._

Gorahm lay sprawled across the backseat of the hover, his head resting on the barrel of the VC-sniper rifle as he cradled it to his chest. His focus still held within his slumbering subconscious.

Allison offered another glance back towards him, then back up to Suhjik who had been piloting the hover for the past few hours, well into mid-day.

"I never thought I'd say it, but he looks peaceful." Allison spoke with a smirk. "Only when he's sleeping though."

"We all look peaceful when we're asleep."

"Well, maybe he looks more so than most. Probably because he can't relax while he's awake."

"He can, just not as easy around, well, you." He replied, politely.

"Me? It shouldn't be impossible, I mean, you seem pretty even-keeled around me… And you haven't shot at me yet, so I think that makes you the first Helghast ambassador to Vekta."

This time he laughed. "Thank you, but I'll have to decline. Call me an anomaly. I'm an old hound, girl. I've done a lot of biting and lost a lot of teeth along the way. That's calmed my anger down a bit."

He then jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Him? He's younger, and has all his teeth. Not to mention a life-time of training telling him who to bite and why. I sometimes think if I wasn't around to influence him, he'd have fallen in completely to propaganda and servitude."

"Why him though?"

"Huh?"

"Why try to save him?" She said, curious. What made the young grunt any different to Suhjik than any of the other rank and file eluded her. The older warrior meant to keep it that way.

"I just noticed a more.. Independent flare to him." He lied casually. "I trained him, got to know him, became close. If my cover was blown, I didn't want to leave him to be burned at the stake for simply being known as a friend of mine."

"Ah, I see." She said, falling silent for a few moments longer. It felt too quiet for her again, and she had to probe a little deeper. "So why help the ISA? God knows, you could fill a dictionary on what you hate about us."

"… I help… For my own reasons, and they are my own and no others. And your God has no say on what happens on this planet." He said, with an equal amount of serious and smug.

"Now that I find very curious."

"What?"

"-Your- God. You said that, right? Belief has always followed humanity. You do not have a God?"

The old hound laughed genuinely now. "Is there a -God- worth praying to in this place? Living on this planet is proof that there is no higher power. We do have belief, though."

"Is it any different? It's all belief in the end, no? Can you look up in that sky, and see how… Limitless it all is. People have always had a God."

"I disagree.. Okay, let me explain it all, if I've researched your texts well enough." He cleared his throat. "You believe God created you, -"

"Not personally, but yes many d-."

"Fine, fine. God created Man. Man created Helghast. Our kind suffered, heavily. Children dying right out of the womb, after their first few breaths. Hopelessness. Madness. We were broken, and you Vektans enjoyed the spoils of your crimes. A fair God indeed." Allison folded her arms, quick to bite her lip, lest she interrupt to argue about these 'crimes'.

He paused only for a moment, before continuing. "Now, Visari comes and rallies us. A prophet not of human salvation, but of Helghast. Stripped or torn away, we have lost all of what it is to be from where we once were. No longer human, no longer weak. Our God is ourselves, together and unified we could bring greater miracles than any book or preacher had ever proselytized. We would be our own saviors, smiting our enemies with our own two hands. We worship not what we can't see but what you see all around you. Industry, forges, machinery, mobilization. A culture all our own, and a war machine created to stamp out any aggressors to the Helghast right to exist and prosper." He took a deep breath. He really wasn't used to talking so much.

"So you worship… War?"

"No, no. Well, it must seem like that, right? But no, Miss Petit. Tell me, did you learn any history of the Helghast when you were younger."

"Sure, but more in the Vektan term of history."

"Well, you do know that we owned Vekta? All those years ago."

"Yes."

"She was actually named after the Helghan corporation CEO, Philip Vekta. Helghan corporation bought her from the UCN, when the official colonization fleet went dark en route."

"I didn't know that part about the CEO, but yes, yes, colossal debt forced the UCN to bid the Alpha Centauri system colonization rights."

"Exactly. Spent the last of their riches buying those rights. They arrived, set up colonies and it was an economic boon. A good age…"

"Then.."

"Jealousy, anger. The UCN didn't enjoy the privileges earned by the Helghan corporation. They took both planets back at the barrel of a gun after selling them to us."

"That's a little simplified, don't you think?"

"That's what I see when I think of that time, girl." Suhjik muttered, sourly. "Regardless. We were stripped of our planets, funds, resources. And exiled. They scraped together what little money they had left and mounted a patchwork fleet of ships to escape persecution. They land on Helghan… And well, the rest is history."

"Was there a moral to this history lesson, teacher?" She asked smugly, shrugging down in her seat.

"Worship, remember? We were dying and we came back with a murderous vengeance. The next time you curse us for taking away your brothers, sons and loved ones - Remember that we are only a product of your crimes, and the only wrong thing we did by your standards was survive long enough to come back and bite your ass."

She pursed her lips stubbornly. Her mind was still somewhat jolted from the first brushes with death she had experienced over the last couple of days. It must have muddled her thought process as she could not summon a snappy rebuttal this time.

He leaned closer to the Vektan now, one ghostly brow raised in question. "Do they tell you we are irradiated, insane mutants who live to feast on the entrails of little Vektan children?"

She laughed in response. "You'd be surprised, really. The UCN only wants peace with the Helghast."

"Then who brought those warships to the party? And all of those friendly fellows with the guns and tanks."

She blinked. "Hey, we're all flawed. You can't expect us to offer our hands out in peace, when you're all mobilized for war. It takes two to tango, and Lord knows the Helghast are passed dancing with us."

"Well-spoken."

"Mm."

The next hour or so was silence. Rocky crags and swirling red dust was all that could be seen on the planets visage. It was little in the terms of conversation starters. Yigohr slowed the speeder to a full stop and hopped out, bringing a questioning look from Allison, who was roused from her half-sleep.

"What're you doing?"

"Thirsty, and my shift's over." He nudged Gorahm's head, who had moved little in his sleep. "Wake up."

"Nngh." He sounded off, through his rebreather and quickly began to stir, energy in his voice. "Why are we stopped, sir?"

"Shift change. I'm going to sleep. Miss Petit, if you'll take the helm."

"Sure," She crawled over into the driver's seat. "I just follow the marked coordinates, right?"

"Yeah. And Gorahm, keep an eye out."

"Yessir." He sounded off with a nod and jumped over into the front seat, making himself comfortable as he cradled the VC-32 in his arms.

"Good. Onward then, minions." He said with a jesting, regal air as he reclined in the backseat. "We're nearly out of water," He muttered, more to himself. It took only a minute before his light snores were barely heard over the whirring engine.

Allison kept her eyes trained upon the path ahead, careful for any hidden crags or rocky outcroppings that might pop up on their fast trek through the wasteland. Occasionally she would spare a glance in Gorahm's direction, who seemed almost stone-like in his seat. He leaned back against it, watching the ruddy, red earth fly past him like one long blur.

She had a budding enjoyment of the older soldier's company. He was smart and level-headed, and at least mildly sociable. The younger one, though, was an un-nerving mystery to her. Witnessing him execute a dying soldier before her eyes was a horrifying sight, perhaps one she would never forget. It might have also been because half the time they had known each other, he'd been her abusive captor.

She was fiery-tempered, and possessed a very strong will, but it took her a few attempts to work up the nerve to talk to the Helghast riding shotgun.

"So, how d-

"Thank you." He interrupted, his tone expressed a calmness that she couldn't see on his face, beneath his mask.

"Huh?" She replied, carefully. It was the last thing she would have expected him to say, and it certainly caught her off-guard.

"For saving me from that heavy," He answered, his hand climbing up to rub at the nape of his neck tenderly. She was certain his neck was still bruised but the motion appeared more embarrassed than sore.

She smiled beneath her mask, letting it hide a light flush to her cheeks. It was due to his praise, but even more from general relief His current disposition seemed so docile, which made it all the more disarming.

"I was happy to. Guess you could say we're even now."

"I- Oh, yes, that. Well, I suppose I was happy to do it, if you were happy to as well." Gorahm mentally kicked himself. If his words were a person, they'd be awkward, stumbling and drunk. "I was told to keep an eye on you, heh, despite your keen ability at getting into trouble."

A playful smile now played across dry lips. "Well look at that, a Helghast that attempts humor. Is this real?"

Gorahm fired back his own playful comment. "Of course not, Helghast don't know what humor is. If we smile or skip in gardens, our faces may melt off." She could see Gorahm had a much more youthful zeal than he let on.

She laughed this time, weaving the hover through a pair of jagged boulders. "I'd say you're the funniest one I've met, though the rest tend to just shoot at me, so your competition isn't the stiffest."

"Humor is not a prized trait in my people," He quipped. Though, that was quite an understatement. Free-expression and creativity were quite void from most Helghast. "How far until the evac zone?"

Allison pursed her lips, wondering the same thing herself. "I'm wondering that myself," She murmured as she brought the hover to a slow halt. "See the path that's been marked out?" She asked, her slender finger connecting the zig-zagging coordinates. "If we follow this route exactly, we'll arrive by dawn next morning."

"You say this as though you have a… different suggestion." Gorahm murmured, watching the path she drew with her fingertip.

"I do.. If we forget about the next four checkpoints, and simply take this path through the quarry ridge -here-, we can arrive at the evac zone by nightfall."

Gorahm chewed nervously on the inside of his mouth. This shortcut would shave valuable time off their trip, and the quarry might offer better cover from roaming Helghast patrols… Or funnel them right into a trap, a dead-end, or worse if one could imagine. "It's a gamble, Petit."

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained." She spoke under her breathe, her gaze slipping between the map screen and the landmarks. "There." She said, pointing. "Do you see it?"

Gorahm followed where she pointed until he spotted a craggy split in the earth, as if some behemoth had dug his fingers into the planet's crust and split it down the middle. The large crack in the earth was one of many that daunted the ravaged, dry earth. "I see it, but I don't know if we should divert our course. I'll consult Suhjik."

The young Vikar had barely turned to rouse his uncle before Allison stopped him fervently. "No, no. He'll tell us not to take the detour."

"Then that's what we should do," Gorahm replied back at her. Following orders was easy and comfortable for him. Allison now made him even more antsy with her penchant for walking her own path, both metaphorical and literal.

She sighed, throwing her head back against the seat with an exasperated sigh. "You're being difficult and stubborn."

"I'm being difficult?" Gorahm asked in shock, his tone lowering to a quiet growl so as not to wake his superior. "Look who's talking! All I want to do is follow orders, you're the one who's coming up with your own fucking plans and theories and-"

"Well, you'll just have to trust me on this, you owe me that at least. Please?" She spoke firmly to him, but her final word ended in a melodic, feminine tone. It seemed to frustrate him, the way she asked feeling almost torturous. "When we get there I'll bring you a tall canteen of water."

Gorahm sighed, slumping into his seat. He didn't know why, but he nodded with a tired sigh. "Just be careful, and take it slo-woah!" He barely had time to finish before she throttled the hover and it shot like an arrow forward. He peered back behind his shoulder at Suhjik who hardly stirred from his slumber. Perhaps it was best that he wasn't awake for this detour.

"You're the best." She said, now aware that he had a slight weakness for her female charms. Fortuitous for her that most Helghast troopers were never raised and trained around females their own age. Gorahm was a perfect example of this fact.

The deep, rigid crags of the valley pass grew more narrow as they ventured further into it. Gorahm once again felt an odd, claustrophobic feeling seize in his chest. "Slow down, slow down, I'm going to lose my lunch…" He gripped his stomach as Allison begrudgingly slowed the hover down. "That is if I'd even had a lunch to lose."

The path ahead grew more narrow, its tall walls smooth from eons of wind and sandstorms. Allison was careful as she took the hover down the rocky, winding path. She hoped the route didn't grow any more narrow, or she'd be liable to get the machine stuck against the rocks. "Don't even get me started on food, Gorahm," She said with a longing moan, "I'd kill for -anything-.. A sandwich, a cookie… A good ol' hamburger with lettuce and pickles and a bit of ketchup.." She seemed to grow lost in her fantasies, though Gorahm merely blinked at her, completely lost as to what she spoke of.

Allison peered over at him, taking his silence correctly, as confusion. "Oh, c'mon, you've never even heard of these foods?"

"Nope," He replied curtly.

"A hamburger.. It's made from cow meat."

"Oh, cows. Yes, we have something similar. My father worked in a slaughterhouse."

"So you have eaten cow, yes?"

"No. Keeping anything alive on this planet is a costly task," He motioned at himself, a Helghast as an example. "Cows and livestock were reserved for the upper class and our superiors." His father had once mentioned stories of workers in the slaughterhouse who tried to sneak out meat to their families, and their immediate liquidation.

"So, you've never had cow… Okay, chicken?"

"What?"

"Nevermind. Apples, bananas, avocado?"

The young Vikar's optics merely continued to blankly stare at her, and she immediately dismissed the question. She should have known better, nothing edible ever grew on this rock. "Okay, I give up. What -do- you eat?"

"Whatever I am given." He answered, honestly. In truth, his culinary tastes only depended on what gruel was presented to him that day.

"No fair, that's not an answer."

"Well, I don't know what else I'm supposed to say. I sit, I eat what's presented to me. The end."

She pouted stubbornly beneath her mask, green eyes focused on the narrow road ahead. "Well, does it taste good?"

"It tastes… Good. Like food." He said, unsure of how he cold phrase this. He'd eaten bland slop his entire life, stale bread and water that tasted heavily of lead and iron. Certainly his taste buds had not experienced the most diverse foods in this world.

"That's a whole hell of a lot of information. I'm making you a hamburger once we get back to the evac zone, and you're going to love it." She claimed as though it weren't his decision whether or not he'd enjoy it.

"As long as your Vektan food doesn't burn my innards out," He murmured coyly in the mechanical hum, though even the rebreather couldn't completely disguise his trepidation of consuming Vektan food.

The next hour went by slowly, the tall walls of stone blocking out the vicious sun's rays.

"So..," Allison began slowly. She certainly didn't want to press her luck after cracking Gorahm's cold shell, but she knew the only way to test her boundaries was to push them.

"What do you do for fun?" She asked. Unlike the withdrawn Helghast, Allison hated long silences. The urge to socialize and talk had been with her throughout her entire life.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"What?" She rolled her eyes and sighed. "F. U. N. What do you do for entertainment, enjoyment. Do they turn you guys off and plug you into the nearest outlet when you return to base?"

He shrugged off her thinly veiled yarn, slumping in his seat. "I don't know," He'd never been asked such a question, and thinking about it more, he never really asked himself what he did for fun. "I- .. I like following orders."

He wasn't lying completely at least, but she shook her head. Allison did not buy his answer in the slightest.

"And?" She asked, the hover slowing to a crawl as she inched through a particularly thin stretch of the smooth, rocky path.

"Well, I used to have an interest in old Vektan films. I'll admit it, your species knows how to weave an extravagant story."

She smiled beneath her mask, eyes widening in surprise. _I never expected that._ "You watched movies?"

"Secretly, but yeah, I did." He murmured, briefly reflecting back on the days he could relax and watch the myriad of old movies. He could discuss the characters' inter-drama with Ledkir, or more often poke fun at the plot holes or campy effects. He had seen each one several times before the fateful mission in Pyhrrus. Such distractions helped keep him sane.

"Good, common ground," She felt slightly relieved. The young soldier was not as rigid and stony as he put on, though this new revelation was something she could never have guessed. "Another thing to do once we reach the evac-zone."

"Yeah," Gorahm murmured shyly, though his tone didn't seem to place much faith in that actually happening. "When do you think that'll be?"

"If I had to take a guess I'd say another hour, roughly."

"Good…" Silence once again perforated the hover as it slowly traversed the turns of the thin valley. The young Vikar canted his head upward to stare at the looming stone walls. Copper hued clouds slipped by the narrow window he had of the sky. He shut his eyes, only for a moment. Simply to rest his mind. Just a moment.

Allison continued to guide the hover, and peered over to speak, "Have you ever see-" She cut herself off. The limp way the young Vikar's head bobbed and jostled in his seat told her that he had dozed off. With a small smile, she decided not to wake him. Better to let him sleep, he would receive no berating or chewing out from her for napping on watch. She was no drill sergeant. For now her green eyes focused ahead on the path, determined to reach the end of this winding trench. With any luck, she would be able to wake the two Helghast just as they passed into the evac-zone border.

"Wake up!" Allison's voice roused him, his hand snapping to his knife in a knee-jerk reaction.

"What! What is it?" Her eyes were wide in terror, and her breaths were heavy through the rebreather. Something was very amiss.

She couldn't seem to summon words, and only pointed ahead of the hover. Gorahm stood up as she moved to shake Suhjik from his slumber. Gorahm narrowed his gaze, at the clearing below. He must have dozed off, as they reached the end of Allison's shortcut, but what he saw before him sent his heart plummeting down into his bowels.

The hover was parked at the exit from the narrow pass, it's walls had already begun peeling away from them. Below him stood the evac-zone, though where a ship would have stood was now an empty launch pad and a base in complete silence and abandonment. _No._

Allison could feel the warmth drain out of her limbs at the sad, hope-shattering realization. They were gone. The ISA had evacuated without them.

"What the fuck?" Yigohr snarled angrily, snapping to his feet in the back seat. He snatched the VC-32 from Gorahm's grasp and aimed it down into the clearing, scanning it through the powerful scope. As he did so, Allison's gaze moved between the two silent soldiers and the ghost town below. Her mouth was parted, hopelessly attempting to summon some sort of answer or reasoning.

_They left us here. We were too late. How? Why?_

Suhjik seemed to cement these thoughts as he finally lifted the rifle away, over his shoulder with a long, grating sigh. "Well, there isn't a soul in sight. We may as well go down and scout around. Maybe we can dig up some answers… Or some supplies."

It hadn't occurred to Allison until now of their chances of survival now that the ship had vacated. Her stomach had once again growled and tensed painfully, and she idly placed a hand to her core to no avail. She knew this wasteland would most likely be their grave if nothing could be scavenged from the site.

At Suhjik's word, she sank sadly into the drivers seat and throttled the vehicle down the gradual slope of the trench's exit, her gaze fixed on the evacuation zone as it loomed closer and closer. The barb wired fence rustled gently against the strong wind as they approached, and the watchtowers that flanked each corner were abandoned.

"Curious," Yigohr murmured through his mask, red optics snapping around the compound vigilantly. "Gor, do you see what I see?"

"It's hard not to," He responded, taking note of his surroundings. Bullet holes, scorch marks, and small craters peppered the entire zone. "Looks like a battle took place here."

His superior nodded in agreement, and Allison tightened her grip on the steering vein as she looked around now, un-easy. She surely didn't want to stumble into another fight after high-tailing it out of a previous one. "Are we in danger?" She chimed in.

"I don't think so," The old hound pointed at the earth, "No boot prints of any kind, so whatever the hell happened here must have been a couple days ago. At least long enough for the prints to have blown over. Hold up here, and kill the engine."

Allison brought the machine to a smooth halt, and disengaged the engine. Its whirring hums fell silent in an almost grateful manner to the Vektan, as if the beaten machine needed a long reprieve from the long haul across the desert.

"Alright. We need to secure this place down, and scrounge up anything of use. That's food, water. Weapons if we can. If you find any tech that might be of use, Miss Petit, tell me right away. Everyone understand?"

Allison nodded as Gorahm vaulted out of his seat with an energetic 'Yessir'. He rounded the back of the hover and dug around through the weapons stockpile before picking out an StA-52, his most preferred weapon.

"Give your sidearm to Miss Petit, if you would." Suhjik ordered his nephew calmly, hopping out of the hover and scanning the surrounding once with his sniper rifle. Satisfied momentarily, he slung it across his back and joined Gorahm in outfitting himself with the small arsenal of weaponry. Allison, on the other hand, blinked at their method in mild confusion.

"Wait, I thought this place was abandoned," She asked, her voice diminishing as Gor rounded back to her, placing his Helghast sidearm into her hands. She held it warily, looking back up to Gorahm.

"Assumptions make for dead men, Petit," Vikar responded, pushing the pistol further into her hand along with a spare clip. "Safety's on. Just point and shoot if you have to, and remember: We're the Helghast you -don't- want to kill."

"I know that, I'm not a damn child," She spat back quietly. She had gone through basic training when she enlisted in the ISA, though it was more of a formality as her real expertise was for tech, computer and chemical agents. She assumed the last time she would have to shoot a gun was in the firing range on Vekta.

Swallowing the apprehension in her throat she clutched the pistol tighter, falling in behind the two soldiers.

The small compound looked as if a tornado had run through it, which was very possible. Sandstorms were fairly regular, and there was obviously nobody around any longer to tidy up the place.

"I see some containers," She murmured, pointing to a small stack of metal crates. The green, flickering lights on the locks told the Vektan that the crates were still in working order. A working crate was much easier to break into than one jammed with sand and dust.

Allison immediately approached, her gaze sweeping around momentarily in a fit of suspicion. She kneeled before the first crate, as her hand fished around in her side pocket. She produced the multi tool she had used in the mining town. What was first a lapse in memory was now a blessing. She had forgotten to return the tool, but now it would make a suitable wedge to pry her way into the box.

_Pry back the covering, disconnect the lock inhibitor, and…_

As sparks glanced off of the broken wire, the green light flashed once before changing to a bright blue. She made the delicate task look simple.

Her rising hopes were once again shattered as she opened the box, only to find it filled with spare parts and scrap. "Zilch." She muttered in a sigh. Repeating the same actions on the remaining crates, her frustration began to blossom at what could only be described as useless trash and broken parts. "It's all crap, nothing useful."

She pushed herself to her feet, giving one of the open crates an angry kick, in a brief moment of anger. Her hands fell to her hips, noticing now that her two companions had meandered off in different directions. It was hard to tell the pair apart with their masks strapped on, but she knew Suhjik was the one shouldering the sniper rifle around. He busied himself with a pile of refuse, nosing through it with the barrel of his rifle.

Gorahm stood further away from the pair, idling with what he thought was a mobile building of some sort. It was a large cube-shaped building, no more than five or six meters tall and wide, and caked with fine red dust. It had obviously not moved since it was placed here.

She heard the keypad make a beep of denial to the Helghast as he attempted to open the door. After his second attempt ended in the same result he slammed his boot against the corner, growling curses under his breath. Allison blinked in surprise as he suddenly waved her over, apparently needing her help.

She jogged up beside Gorahm, "What's up?"

"What does this say?" He asked pointing at the chipped, yellow symbols painted on the door. It was written in English and it took a moment for the dark-haired girl to remember that the common script for her people was gibberish for him.

"It says supplies, Gor." She said with rapidly growing interest. Though as she spied the keypad, her dark brow arched sharply. "This is odd."

"What?" He asked, trying to follow her gaze.

Allison didn't respond, gently pushing him aside and lowering down to the small computer built into the door. "The lock's been jammed, sealed tight... But from the _inside_."

Gorahm's form immediately tensed up, his grip tightening on his rifle. He seemed to be expecting to have to use the weapon now, which only worried the Vektan more.

Gorahm yelled over his shoulder for Suhjik, who came jogging up at his call. As she reiterated what she had learned his shoulders bunched up in the same tense manner as his protégé. Where she saw an attempt to possibly save a soul, they only saw a danger to be put down.

"Open it and we can find out if anyone's alive inside… Though if I see a weapon pointed at me, I pull the trigger," Gorahm muttered, much to Allison's chagrin. She looked to Yigohr, hoping he might mediate the younger soldier's crude reasoning. His silence only served as his unspoken agreement to the other Helghast.

"What other options do we have," She whispered to herself. This was probably the best chance they would have of finding sustenance. She only hoped that bloodshed would not come of it. Tool in hand, her slender fingers danced across the pad, attempting several simple algorithms that might reset the computer. Each was met with failure, and she exhaled out of her nose in annoyance, chewing on her lip gently as she began prying the covering off the pad. It was similar to her approach with the locked crate and the further she played with the wires, the tighter Gorahm pressed the rifle into the crook of his shoulder, ready to answer any threat with a spray of death, should civility fail this instance.

"Ow," Allison hissed sharply, pulling her hand away from the exposed wire that jolted her finger. With re-doubled effort, she pressed back to her task. Carefully she stripped the two exposed wires and gently touched them to one another. Several attempts were made, watching the blue electricity lance between the copper threads. This time she would not be denied and with a final, gentle stroke the door responded.

_Clunk._

The large lock disengaged and the door slid away into the adjoining wall with a surprising smoothness, given the dreary condition of the structure itself.

"You hig fucks!" A husky voice snarled in defiance and suddenly a figure came careening from the darkness, a pry bar held dangerously in his hands. Had Gorahm been a little slower the first swing would have smashed him across his rebreather, but his honed reflexes made him dip his head just under the arc of his swing. He hopped back, as the metal bar was nearly brought down upon his skull

"Stop! Stop!" Allison yelled in near unison with Gorahm as he barely stayed out of range of another wild swing. The stranger looked bedraggled and dirty, wearing stained, dusty army fatigues and a sleeveless shirt that was probably an immaculate white originally. It was now covered in spatters from dirt, blood and some stains one wouldn't care to guess on. Their words didn't appear to faze him, only a wild and desperate look in his hazel eyes as he relentlessly swung at the young Vikar.

Suhjik knew by now that words wouldn't solve anything as the man made no attempt to listen, and he certainly wouldn't stand idly by as the stranger swung with wild abandon at his nephew. Gorahm brought his rifle up, deflecting a downward strike that would have crushed his collar bone in. Before the Vektan could throw his knee up into Gorahm's exposed side he was knocked off his feet by Yigohr, who barreled into him like a steel ram. The pry bar flew from his grasp and he thrashed under the old hound's weight before a thundering right punch connected with his cheek. Then another and another.

Allison yelled frantically at Suhjik as Gorahm calmly collected himself and checked his rifle for any damage. She grabbed the older Helghast by the shoulders, attempting to pull him from the flailing man or at least deter him from beating his face into oblivion. She now believed his statement of being old as complete bullshit, as she could hardly jar the old warrior from atop the man whom he repeatedly battered. She caught his fist as it cocked back, holding it with all of her might. The old hound finally relaxed, his hand falling to his side as he pushed himself off of the stranger with less than a second glance. It was obvious that the man's state was somewhat weakened before he came charging out of the steel door, and the savage beating he received from the ex-officer was enough to lay him stunned on the ground.

Allison knelt at the man's side, inspecting the fresh bruises and cuts along his face. His mouth and teeth were raw and red and a healthy trickle of blood now came from his nostrils. He peered up at her with one eye, his other had swelled shut from a nasty shiner, and his chest rose and fell in labored breaths, partly from the exertion and partly from the burning atmosphere of Helghan. "Who… Who are you?"

"A friend, just stay still. Rest." She murmured gently. The man attempted to jump to his feet as the two Helghast entered his shelter.

"Stay out of there you Hig motherfuckers!," He protested in a vile tone, though Allison held him down whispering words of calm and comfort into his ear. His panicked eye darted between the trio, as if he were hallucinating the cooperation between Higs and Vektans.

Allison could feel the suspicion and anger radiate from him onto her at her affiliation with the two soldiers who had disappeared inside. _He must think I'm some sort of turncoat._

Gorahm visibly recoiled as the smell of human feces assaulted him through his rebreather. 'Ugh' He grunted out before entering, rifle drawn and ready.

"Hey! I think this is food." Gorahm said, emerging with a box in his arms. Inside were several large cans, and he stared at Allison, waiting for her confirmation that he had found something of value. He nodded and placed it on the ground.

"And water," Suhjik called out from the recesses of the supply container. "Gorahm! There's someone else in here, she looks injured."

"Get your dirty fuckin' hands off her, you thieving, Visari rats!" The stranger seemed to have gained a second wind of strength as he threw Allison back. The man nearly sprung to his feet, but he was interrupted with Gorahm's boot, which collided with the man's face, putting him out cold.

"You alright?" He asked, reaching out to help Ms. Petit to her feet. She fixed him with a surprisingly cold expression as she dusted herself off.

"He wasn't armed, you know, you didn't need to kick his face in." She chided him quietly as Suhjik re-emerged from the doorway, a woman held in his arms. A large bloodstain had dried under the bandages wrapped around her abdomen and she seemed to be unconscious given the way she hung limply in the older Helghast's hold.

Gorahm's face might have communicated his offense at her words, but he merely leered at her from behind his mask and blaring goggles. She said nothing more, weaving past him and the blacked-out man to tend to the other survivor.

"She's breathing, but it's shallow," Allison murmured to Suhjik, as she placed the back of her hand to the woman's brow. "No fever - Lie her down over here and see if you can find any blankets."

As Suhjik and Allison saw to the unconscious woman, Gorahm's gaze drifted to the man on the ground, his eyes closed and his face now bloody from the rather savage kick he'd received. It certainly didn't bother the young hound, what he had done, but the way it upset their Vektan companion left a niggling annoyance in his mind.

His thoughts were broken at the sound of Yigohr's call. "Gorahm!" He barked, "Collect some brush and anything you can find that will burn. We're making camp here for the night."

A fire crackled in the pit Gorahm had dug earlier, and everyone was seated around it on the empty containers which made for handy seats. All those except Gorahm who stood at first watch from the abandoned guard tower with the VC32.

Allison, Yigohr and the stranger sat around the healthy flame. The other woman had also regained her bearings, though she had not the strength to move from the makeshift bed they had set her in next to the warm licking of the flames. Allison and Yigohr sat next to each other, just as the man had seated himself beside his compatriot. Two open cans of stew lay discarded at Allison's feet and a makeshift pot hung over the fire on a spit, letting the food cook up before being served.

Yigohr wordlessly stared at the unknown man, who mirrored this. Allison thought he looked like he wanted to shoot white-hot lasers from his eyes. The silent animosity and distrust was thick in the air.

"So," She finally broke the silence. "What's your name?"

The man's gaze snapped sharply to her, his jaw clenching beneath his haggard facial hair. Allison sighed, but pressed on. "Look, you don't have to distrust us. We're here to help you, we're the good guys."

She offered an apologetic glance to Suhjik at the generalization she had used for the ISA, but she knew it was important to gain their trust. If anyone would know what had transpired here it was them.

The man scowled silently at her words, his misgivings still burning strong. Though, they weren't treating him as a prisoner and if they wanted him dead he'd already have been spider-bait. He knew this and after a few moments he cleared his throat. "William Hotchkiss. PFC."

"Who is your friend?"

"Rose Esperanza. She's also a private of sorts."

This was good, Allison thought with her most appreciative smile. He was opening up. "Please, do you know what happened here?"

The man took a deep breath now, glancing at the single Helghast around the fire with obvious mistrust. Even being in his presence felt almost lucid. He had not been closer than thirty feet to a breathing Helghast soldier, and the idea of sitting pleasantly around the camp fire only left a sour taste in his mouth. "We set up a perimeter here after our ship had to make an emergency landing. We were supposed to wait for another week before lifting off, but Helghast raiders got the jump on us…" He swallowed hard, his voice chapped and dry. Allison offered him her canteen, which he took without a word and sipped at calmly.

"What happened?"

"Hell broke out, and the ship took off before they could call in air support and permanently ground her," He explained, though his voice held no indigence or anger towards being left behind. He long ago accepted the price of sacrifice for the greater good. "The rest of us were picked off and Esperanza was wounded in the fray. I dragged her into the supply shelter and jammed the door behind me." He let out a small, cynical laugh. "I honestly thought that room would be our grave. The door refused to open after I smashed the lock pad on the inside. We had plenty of food and medical supplies, but I knew it would run out soon." His face became grim at the prospect of a slow and agonizing death in the small confines of human waste and hopelessness.

Allison nodded, raking her fingers through her raven hair with a calm sigh. _Things were as bad as she thought then. _

"Do you have any idea where they may have gone from here? Anything at all."

"No. As far as I knew, our operation was facilitating the pull-out operations for our forces. Though I don't even know if the ship broke the atmosphere or where it is now. Everything's been chaos since Visari was slain."

Yigohr spoke now, breaking the rather stone-like stance he held while sitting. "You've received no word of where the remnants of your allies have gone? Surely there are still many like you, trapped planet-side."

"I don't know, that's what I said," He growled at Yigohr adamantly. Even if he did know, Allison doubted he'd discuss it with the ex-officer. The idea of revealing any ISA pockets on the planet to a Helghast felt like treason, practically. Allison would be a liar if she said she didn't have the same misgivings in the beginning. "We were attacked, the ship flew off and that's all I know. What do you want me to tell you?"

"It's either we find the next ISA presence or we die out here. All of us." Yigohr spoke, calm and curt. He was mostly true. One way or another they wouldn't survive if they couldn't make contact with the ISA.

"Well, I don't know a damn thing," He snapped back, his frustration growing ominously behind his hard stare, "I can't tell you something I don't know, can I? You higs don't fucking listen, do you?"

Yigohr's hands balled into fists at this and he shot to his feet, though Allison followed him and placed a hand upon his shoulder, coaxing him back down to his seat. She stood over the fire between the men. "Dinner should be ready!" She attempted swerving the conversation in a new direction, and keep the status quo of peace. She pulled her sleeves over her hands and picked the bubbling pot off of the spit. "Get your bowls out. It's hot." _Please, stuff your mouths. We're two words away from another brawl._

Much like the 'pot', the several bowls were also makeshift, taken from the strewn debris and rubbish for their shape that would hold liquid. She filled each one to the brim with a generous helping. "There's plenty, help yourselves."

Allison's stomach churned in agony. She was so very hungry, but she had to make sure the rest of them were settled and not at each others throats. She took two bowls and knelt before the one called Rose, who seemed to rouse slightly at the smell of food.

"Do you have enough strength to eat?" Allison asked, hoping she did. If not, she would have to feed her, a task that would surely exacerbate her own clawing hunger.

"Yes… I-I think I can manage." She gritted her teeth in pain as she tried to sit up, though it proved too painful and she lowered back down onto her back. Allison sighed inwardly, but fixed the woman with an understanding smile.

"Just relax, I'll help you," One hand cradled her head up as she brought the rim of the bowl to her lips, tipping it only slightly for her to take small sips from the broth and canned meat and veggies. "Does it hurt at all?"

"It smarts, yes," Esperanza responded. It seemed the taste of food had given her enough energy to talk. "But I've walked away from worse, believe me."

Allison refrained from commenting that she hadn't even the strength to sit up, she merely nodded and gave her another small sip. "Well, I'll still need to take a look at your wound before you go to sleep. It might get infected."

The private shook her head gently as she chewed. "I'll be alright," She whispered just under the sound of the crackling flames. "Hotchkiss has been changing my bandages and even managed to remove the bullet. He's looked after me."

Allison nodded, the pleasant smile never leaving her lips. Certainly the rugged-looking man would have been more friendly had her entourage not been comprised of his hated enemy. "Alright, ma'am, if you say so."

The woman seemed to take larger and larger draughts from the bowl. Not by much, but it was a good sign. Allison silently admired her grit and tolerance for what looked like a very painful and almost wound. Esperanza sighed in relief, her head cradled under the old fatigues that were rolled up for a pillow. "I heard you guys talkin' about where to go from here."

Allison blinked, the words snapping her back from her thoughts. "Oh. Yes, we may be stranded out here for all we know. Sure the hover is in working condition, but what? We putter around this wasteland until we starve or get blown to hell?"

Rose's hand slithered out from under the blanket, gently pushing away the bowl as it was offered to her. "No more, thank you." Her hand then weakly trailed up to grab her collar and pull her closer. Allison obliged - the soldier didn't have the physical strength at the moment to feed herself, much less move someone. "I've heard some things."

Petit tilted her head, sweeping her hair behind her ear. "Things? What things?" She pressed closer to the woman as her voice lowered to little more than a whisper. It seemed she too was wary of bringing sensitive information up in front of a Helghast.

"Before- ngh," She stifled her pain as she attempted to shift herself on the blanket laid beneath her. "Before the attack, I got a message from my sister.. She's a communications specialist at the forward command base outside of Pyhrrus. The feed was cut but I remember reading that the ground forces were retreating. Trying to find a rendezvous point."

"Retreating where, ma'am? What was the RP" Allison asked, nibbling on her lower lip. It was a nervous habit.

"Rose. I hate ma'am." The soldier whispered, correcting her. "They were moving south she said, into some region the locals called Kazan - Kaznar. Something like that."

Allison pondered this for a moment as Rose whispered into her ear once more. "I don't know if it will help, she didn't give me many details. I didn't want to say in the… present company, but I thought you should know."

"Thank you, it does help. Very much. Now, rest. We may have to move at first light." Allison responded. The wounded female seemed all too happy to obey and her head sunk even more into her pillow, her eyes sliding completely shut now.

Allison took her bowl and moved silently back to her seat.

_This could be it, the clue we needed._

There were no utensils, but she hardly needed them to scarf down the contents in her bowl. It tasted better than any exquisite cuisine she'd partaken of back on Vekta.

_Or it could be nothing but the ramblings of a tired soldier who's lost a lot of blood._

She knew this was a lead though, and the only one right now. It deserved a look into.

"Hey," Yigohr rumbled at her, snapping her back from her thoughts once more. He tipped another helping into his bowl and pushed it gently into her hands. "Would you take that to Gorahm?"

Allison looked at the bowl, then to the Helghast, then back. "Oh. Sure, of course," She said politely, having forgotten that the young soldier hadn't been fed yet. She stood up and headed towards the nearest guard tower. She cast a worried glance over her shoulder, hoping that by the time she returned they wouldn't all have killed one another.

"And tell him I'll relieve his watch in an hour!" He called after her, which she nodded to in confirmation.

Gorahm scanned the dark horizon through the scope of the VC32, letting the scope project a lighter hue on the rocky crags and long dusty plains. He imagined this was what an ISA guard was doing right before the veritable shit-storm of fighting fell down upon them. It set a small knot in his stomach.

His concentration was broken as the first of clanging steps began to sound off from beneath him. He set the rifle down as a hand went to his sidearm. He stopped himself though. He had nothing to fear, and besides his holster was empty as Petit still had his pistol.

The steps grew louder until knuckles rapped against the bottom of the floor. Without hesitation he grabbed the door handle and pulled it up, revealing dark tresses and the faint smell of stew. It surprised him, he only expected Suhjik to appear to relieve him.

"Hope you're hungry," Allison asked, her torso now protruding up from the floor. Apparently he was, judging by the way he tore his goggles and rebreather away and snatched the bowl from her hands. He tipped it up and drained practically the entire bowl down into his open maw. Chewing was for when he felt like his stomach wouldn't eat itself out of starvation, and he licked his lips along with the rim of the bowl.

"Oh shit, this stuff is amazing," Gorahm commented, fascinated by this delicious confection.

"Well, it's not the hamburger I promised, but I'm glad you like it," Allison spoke. She hesitated for a moment before entering completely into the guard tower. "All quiet on the western front?" She asked with a coy smile, leaning on the railing and peering off into the sprawling night sky.

Gorahm obviously didn't understand the allusion, as he'd never read any old earth literature of any kind. "Yeah, it's quiet, but I don't knew whether that's a good thing or horribly, horribly ominous."

"Say it's a good thing, I'll rest easier."

"It's a good thing, everything's fine and we'll all definitely live through the night. Definitely." Gorahm spoke in a monotonous tone.

Allison rolled her eyes with a small fluttering laugh in her chest. "You should do speeches." Her eyes rose to peer up into the sky. It was strange how familiar the stars looked. It almost felt like she were peering up at them from her home on Vekta. She didn't want to look away and see the hellish world around her.

"What are you looking for?" Gorahm asked, leaning up on the railing next to her and peering about. "If you look closely at night you can sometimes see Vekta… There, right there. That little blue dot."

Allison followed his pointing finger, until she saw a tiny blue dot. It looked like a thumbtack hanging motionless on the canvas of stars and moons. "That's Vekta?"

"Mhm. My mother told me that. Also told me that it looked a lot like earth."

"Your mother remembers earth?" She asked, curious.

"No, she never saw earth, but her family brought some pictures with them and told stories about it, when in privacy. She told me the stories and memories helped get her through the bad times."

Allison nodded, though the history of Helghan seemed fraught with 'bad times' as far as she knew. "Have you ever wanted to see Vekta - y'know, not from across space, but planetside."

Gorahm pursed his lips, then slowly shook his head. "No. We were kicked off for a reason, and this is my home now. I could pop over to Vekta for a holiday, though one day." He jested, though it seemed more out of bitterness than good nature.

"Well, you might like it, you never know." Allison argued gently, bumping him lightly with her elbow. She had felt guilty for her reaction earlier when Vikar had lashed his boot into the man's jaw. She could imagine from his perspective he was defending her.

Gorahm frowned slightly, then peered over at her, the intense starlight reflecting sharply from his ghostly skin and bare cranium. His eyes were gray, like steel and sharp as he stared at her. If he had been born on Vekta, Allison suspected he would be quite handsome. He was handsome in a certain way even now. "My father's father fell from grace on that planet decades ago, Allison. Life is hard here and uncaring, but I know it's the only life I'll ever have." He said with some amount of grim resignation.

Allison propped her chin against the palm of her hand. It was wishful thinking to believe it was as simple as she propositioned. "So then why do all of this, how are you going to carve any sort of life here as a traitor to your race?"

Her blunt but true words stung Gorahm, and he had often thought about it himself. "I never said it would be a glorious or long life to carve out. Maybe I just want some justice for the few people I cared about that were taken from me. And this time it wasn't the Vektans who did it."

Allison averted her gaze briefly. She did remember the tearful euthanasia he had given to his comrade, though she dared not bring it up or speak of it. The idea that Helghast even formed deep bonds with others was surprising to her. She had only seen the cold side of the military, who held no regard for casualties sustained on their side or the lives lost. Only the goal of destruction and carnage mattered, no matter the cost. She sucked in a deep breath through her nose, the slight sting of the atmosphere making her slightly nauseous.

"Well, I did find something interesting at least."

"What?"

"One of the soldiers told me some information, that the remaining forces on Helghan would be moving south into some sector called.. Oh, what the hell did she call it," She muttered to herself. "Kazar or something with Kaz."

"Kaznan."

"What?"

He stared at her honestly. "I think she meant to say Kaznan. It's normally called the Kaznan Jungle."

Allison's eyes widened at the mention of a jungle. She had assumed the rocky, dusty wasteland stretched the entire crust of this planet. This was quite a shock to her. "The Kaznan Jungle? Have you ever been there?"

"No, but I've heard stories. Mostly from Suhjik. He was in the expeditionary forces that first mapped out the lands. He said it was pretty brutal, but that's not saying much on this world."

Allison's expression brightened at this. _We won't be walking into our graves then if we have someone experienced in traversing the land. I need to talk to him._

"_Things are looking up, Gor. Thanks for the talk," She murmured gratefully, bending down to grab the cleaned-out bowl. _

The young Vikar watched her as she carefully lowered herself down from the tower's perch. "Oh, and Gorahm."

"Yeah?" He asked, peering down at her attentively.

"Suhjik says he'll be up in an hour to relieve you," She said disappearing beneath the doorway in the floor with clanging footsteps as she descended the steps.

"Right," Gorahm said with a small sigh of disappointment. He sunk down to his rear, leaning back against the railing. Vekta hung in the sky like a blue pearl, and he stared thoughtfully at it in silence. A few moments was all he needed before remembering his duty. He grabbed the VC32 and was vigilant once more.

-X

Okay, I am back! My life has been pretty hectic and I long thought about just setting the story on permanent hold. The third KZ game had set down a multitude of logistical problems and seemed to raise more questions than it answered by the end of it. But I knew it wouldn't be fair to any readers to simply quit, so I churned out this mother of a chapter (Sorry there was no action, I needed to set up some perspective and shift the story in a new direction that coincided with the game.) I promise you action fans will get some blood and gore in the next chapter, which will be taking place a few months from now in a new location, with some information of what happened between sprinkled in :) Please review if you fancy it, and drop me a message with any questions, concerns, thoughts etc and I promise to write back. I like where this story is going too much to let it stagnate now. Huzzah!


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